


there's always room for another

by zucchinis (bc_bread)



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: F/F, From friends to lovers, Grief/Mourning, amnesia!byul, tw: mention of suicide, tw: mild sexual abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2018-09-19 21:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9461660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bc_bread/pseuds/zucchinis
Summary: When Byulyi goes over the bridge, Yongsun isn't the only one that feels lost. With the help of a stranger, Byulyi survives - but at what cost?amnesia!byul and leader!yongsun





	1. 1.1 - the Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Straight up: not an expert on amnesia, brain trauma, medical advice or dealing with grief. This idea popped into my head and I wanted to explore it: what sort of challenges does an amnesiac who was an idol face reintegrating back into her old life? It's really a what-if journey, so no pressure if you don't think it's realistic and want to stop. 
> 
> Also, TRIGGER WARNING: the premise of the whole thing is based on a suicide (not from the girls, but). If that's something you're not okay with, feel free to skip this chapter. I didn't linger on it, nor did I make it too graphic (at least, I think so). I'll provide a summary of this chapter at the beginning of the next.
> 
> Unbeta-ed and roughly edited. Feedback appreciated, especially if there's something you think I've stepped over the line about.

**1.**

It all happened so fast.

That was the only thing Yongsun could tell the police officers later. That it had all happened so fast, no one could have done anything. Least of all her.

“Yongsun.” Jeongeun-unnie called for her softly, sounding cautious. Wheein’s hand in hers, Yongsun gripped it tight as she looked up from the spot at the floor she’d been staring at for the past… god, who knew how long?

Their manager looked like she’d been to hell and back. Yongsun guessed that was how they all looked like, to some extent. She certainly didn’t feel like roses. They’d been on their way back to their apartments. Yongsun had been looking forward to a shower. Byulyi hadn’t been able to resist commenting on her scent jokingly as they’d climbed into their van. “Yeba, don’t you have deodorant on you?”

“The police said they have everything they need. We should head back home.” Yongsun understood what shouldering a burden sounded like. She could hear it now, could see it in the way Jeongeun-unnie bore it on her shoulders. It was for that reason alone that Yongsun nodded and turned, urging the rest of her members with her. Hyejin was completely lost in her own thoughts. Yongsun had never seen her like this before.

Wheein took some coaxing; she was still crying, except quietly, now. She hadn’t stopped Yongsun from wiping her tears and snot with her sleeve. Yongsun kept her hand clasped in hers for comfort, the other winding around Hyejin’s shoulders. They followed after their manager in silence, keeping their heads down and turned away from the pitying stares of the police officers. The carpark of the police station felt much too alive with a winter-tinged wind. Yongsun pulled them closer together, trying to share what little warmth she had left.

There was only her now, to keep them together. Because Byulyi had fallen off the bridge.

\---

“What is that?” Yongsun remembered that Byulyi had been laughing, in the van. Wrapped up warmly in her padded jacket and beanie despite Jeongeun-unnie keeping the heater on. Yongsun giggled as she kept her phone out of Byulyi’s reach. “Yongdonnie, you can’t keep that. I look so ugly.”

Yongsun found Byulyi’s pouting cute. “That’s the point.” Byulyi made another whiny noise, which Yongsun ignored. She was in the middle of saving it as Byulyi’s contact photo when Jeongeun-unnie spoke up.

“You girls should be sleeping,” she said, comfortably merging onto the bridge over the Han River. “You need to be up at 3am. Follow the maknae’s example.” She gestured with one hand off the wheel to Hyejin, who had rushed to clamber into the passenger seat after their concert and promptly fell asleep. Poor Hyejin had had a full day of schedules. Yongsun had vetoed any music playing so as not to disturb her.

Wheein was close to drifting off too, in the backseat by herself. She made a grumbling noise, and Yongsun took that as her cue to shush Byulyi. The rapper just made an indignant face, pissed at being accused of something that wasn’t her fault. She slumped in her seat and looked out the window, while Yongsun returned to scrolling through her gallery to check on all the photos she’d taken that day at their event. She was about to show Byulyi a really good one of Wheein playing with the fans when Byulyi sat up and began tapping on their manager’s headrest urgently.

“Unnie, unnie, stop for a moment.”

“Why?” Jeongeun-unnie asked, but pulled the car to a park on the double lines of the road anyway. Byulyi pointed out the window on her side, jabbing her finger against the glass forcefully.

“What’s he doing?” Yongsun leaned in closer, curiosity getting the best of her. This late at night, the road wasn’t too busy. In the gap between two cars passing, Yongsun spotted what Byulyi had seen - on the other side of the road, a boy no younger than Wheein and Hyejin’s age was pacing, back and forth. A bad feeling began to grow in her stomach, and it was made worse by Byulyi unbuckling her seatbelt.

“Byul, where are you going?” The rapper was already in the midst of opening her door carefully, making sure there were no cars behind them. Yongsun reached out, on reflex, to grab Byulyi’s arm. “Byul-ah, don’t go.”

“I think he's the same age as my sister.” Byulyi’s eyes were hard, and Yongsun swallowed. Jeongeun-unnie spoke up.

“I’ll go with you.” Their manager got out as well, and the bad feeling eased a little. Yongsun was about to volunteer herself too, but Byulyi leaned in and spoke quietly to her.

“Stay here, okay?”

(Yongsun would hate herself later for this. For not arguing.)

When she was satisfied that Yongsun wasn’t going to fight, Byulyi flashed her a smile. Confident and charming as always. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, but Jeongeun-unnie called her name and Yongsun lost her attention. Byulyi patted her hand, once, twice, before pulling away completely. Yongsun grabbed her wrist, wishing Byulyi was still holding it.

Wheein stirred in the backseat. Yongsun glanced at her, watched her realise they’d stopped moving and woke up a little more. Yawning through a stretch, Wheein blinked slowly at her, confused. “Why’d we stop, unnie?”

“Byul-ah… and Jeongeun-unnie. There’s a boy on the bridge.” She gestured to where the two of them were crossing carefully, reaching the other side and calling out to the boy. Yongsun and Wheein were too far away to hear anything, but they could see bits and pieces through the gaps between cars. Wheein rubbed at her eyes as she moved closer to Yongsun, peering out the open door as well.

“What’s the boy doing out on the bridge? It’s after midnight.” Wheein sounded young then, and Yongsun’s heart constricted. She reached out to hold Wheein’s hand, needing her comfort as she turned back.

“I think he’s going to kill himself.” Yongsun said it matter-of-factly. Wheein gasped.

“Unnie, don’t say things like that.”

“We’re at the Han River, Wheein.” Yongsun managed to glimpse them talking to the boy. She wanted to get out to get a closer look, but Byulyi had asked her to stay.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Wheein asked. When Yongsun didn’t answer, Wheein reached over to wake Hyejin up. “Yah, Hyejin-ie. _Hyejin-ie_.”

“What?” Hyejin grumbled, sounding tired and angry. Yongsun could hear the scowl in her voice. “I’m sleeping, Jung Wheein.”

“You need to wake up. Something’s happening.” Yongsun squeezed Wheein’s hand, hearing the discomfort creeping into her voice. They needed to keep calm. Otherwise, _Yongsun_ would be the nervous wreck. Her heart was starting to race now, seeing a car pass just as Byulyi stepped closer to the boy, Jeongeun-unnie staying back. They were talking still, Byulyi’s arms raised high in the air, as if showing him she wasn’t a threat. The boy looked terrified.

(Yongsun would never forgive him for that either. For looking afraid. Like he could feel things, just like her.)

“Leave me alone.” Hyejin was still half-asleep when it happened. So quick, Yongsun didn’t believe it. One moment, Byulyi was close, talking to the boy. A car passed. And then Jeongeun-unnie was alone on the bridge, running towards where the boy and Byulyi had stood. She leant over the edge, arm reaching out.

Another car passed.

Jeongeun-unnie was still alone.

Someone screamed. Yongsun would later realise that it was her.

\---

Suicides were very common at the Han River. It was just the right height for dying on impact. Doubly so when the tides were up, and the currents were strong. And if it wasn’t the water that killed you, the cold would.

These were the facts Yongsun would later learn, in a video she would watch about the suicide watch team that patrolled the waters around the river. She met some of them, right after it happened. They’d been able to pull the boy out of the river. He had died on impact.

Jeongeun-unnie was standing to the side, still in shock but slowly coming out of it. Yongsun couldn’t look at her.

“We’re still looking for her. Your friend, I mean.” The man looked old enough to be her father. He had a solemnity surrounding him that Yongsun could appreciate. “She’s lucky; the waters aren’t too bad today. We couldn’t see very well, but we think this guy landed first. If she survived that…” His walkie had gone off then, and Yongsun listened in as he received reports from the teams around the banks. Nothing. The man glanced at her, then said carefully, “Keep searching.”

Yongsun appreciated that as well.

He turned to Jeongeun-unnie, his face softening. “You were on the bridge with her, right?” Jeongeun-unnie nodded, some light returning to her eyes. The man rested a hand on her shoulder, his swimsuit still dripping. “You did what you could. It isn’t your fault.”

Something in Yongsun squeezed then - maybe it was her heart - and she suddenly couldn’t be still anymore. Couldn’t just be waiting around on the banks of the Han River, while Byulyi was out there somewhere.

She took a deep breath. She couldn’t go out searching for her best friend. These people knew what they were doing better than she ever could. So instead, she went to look for her maknaes. They stood by the van, at the top of the bank, unwilling to come down. Yongsun climbed her way back up to them, wrapping her blanket around herself tighter. The wind coming off the river was cold. It was autumn, but the night air certainly didn’t feel like it.

“You guys should turn the heater on,” Yongsun mumbled, opening the driver’s door and turning the engine on. The car rumbled to life around her. She cranked the heater on high. Turning back, she ushered the girls into the car. They went in quietly, watching her.

“They didn’t find her?” Wheein was the one that broke the silence. Yongsun shook her head. It was obvious, wasn’t it?

“They’ll find her,” Hyejin stated calmly. “We just have to wait.”

Yongsun breathed out. The words were bitter on her tongue.

“But what if,” she stalled. Tried again. The man hadn’t said it, but she knew what he meant by _not_ saying it. “What if they’re too late?”

The silence then - well. Yongsun thinks that silence then never left them.


	2. 1.2 - waking up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary of the first chapter: The girls were on their way home from a concert. As they were crossing the bridge over the Han River, Byulyi asks their manager - Jeongeun-unnie - to stop the car. A boy was at the edge, about to jump. Byulyi and Jeongeun-unnie get out to talk him down. She asks Yongsun to stay behind. The boy ends up going over the edge and taking Byulyi with him. They don't find her body. She is declared missing for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks guys, for the response on the first chapter! Here's the second. 
> 
> As always, feedback is appreciated.

The sun was in her eyes. She hated that. She tried turning away from it, except. 

Ow, her  _ head _ . 

Footsteps pounded down the hallway as she hissed, opening her eyes and looking around at her surroundings. She was in a bedroom of sorts. It was a little messy, with books strewn across a table and crammed into a large bookshelf. The wardrobe in the corner was ajar, but she couldn’t tell if they were girl’s or boy’s clothes. She hissed again as she tried lifting an arm to cover her eyes - they felt like dead weights. 

“Hey, you’re up.” She turned carefully to face the voice, mindful of the injury on her head - a bump? A cut? A young girl stood there, her expression flustered. The girl was quite cute, she thought. A bob cut, with soft features. “I was getting worried.”

“Where am I?” She said - or at least, attempted to say. Her throat was so dry it caught on the first word, leading her to cough painfully. God, what happened to her? 

“Oh, oops.” The girl rushed to her side, sliding on her knees to her bedside. She poured a glass of water from a jug on the bedside and held it up to her lips. She drank it greedily. Her mouth was very dry. 

“Thank you,” she managed this time around, licking her lips a few times to soothe the pain. “Where am I?”

“In my room.” The girl scratched the back of her head, embarrassed. “Sorry about the mess.”

She looked around some more. “It’s not too bad.” 

The girl blushed, shyly staring at her. She began to feel uncomfortable as the moment dragged on. 

“And you are…?”

“Me?” The girl pointed at herself. “I’m Kim Minyoung. But everyone calls me Lala.”

“Lala?”

“Yeah. ‘cause I do crazy things sometimes.” Lala smiled. She felt herself smile back. 

A pain in her lip made her wince. Lala frowned.

“Yeah, you’re pretty banged up. Careful; there’s a cut on your lip. I put a butterfly bandage on it, but you don’t want to pull it too much. And don’t move too much; you have a major lump on your head. Right over here.” Lala reached up to gently press against a spot behind her left ear. It sent a throbbing sensation through her that she decided she didn’t like. She yelped, and Lala pulled her hand away with a giggle. “Whoops.” 

“What the heck happened?” Lala gave her a curious look. “Why am I here?”

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head. Lala blinked, then her eyes narrowed. “What do you remember?”

“I…” She thought hard about it. Blinked. “Nothing.” 

Lala’s eyes narrowed. She stared at her for a long moment. “Nothing?”

“Nothing.” Lala dropped her head, and she felt a panic begin to mount in her. “Lala?”

“I’m thinking.” She fell quiet as Lala raised a finger. After a long moment, she lifted her head, concern in her eyes. She bit her lips nervously as she waited for Lala’s response. 

“What’s your name?” 

She blinked. She’d been thinking about it too. “I don’t know.” 

\---

Lala decided they’d call her Yuna, for now. It got weird, she said, not being able to put a name to a face. Especially a face that she’d saved from the banks of a river. 

“Why didn’t you bring me to the hospital?” Yuna asked, leaning on the doorframe as she watched Lala cook their dinner. She’d been asleep for a whole day after their last conversation. Lala had explained it was her body’s natural response to trauma. 

“I’m studying medicine.” Lala kicked a stool out from beside the fridge to in front of the cupboard, stepping up to pull out two plates from the top shelf. Yuna stepped forward to take them from her, ignoring how heavy her arms felt, how there was a stretch and pull on her side as she reached for them. Lala paused, looking up at her. She had stopped talking. 

Yuna gently eased the plates from her and set them on the table. “Where are your utensils?”

“In here.” Lala tapped a drawer. Yuna slid it open to find them. The shorter girl coughed and returned to frying kimchi on the stove. “I thought I would take a look at you first.”

“Well, thanks.” Yuna reached up to gently run her hand over the tight bandage over her head. “This is very well done.” She’d been able to get a look at herself earlier, in the bathroom mirror. Trying to ignore how drawn her face looked, Yuna had focused on the bandage instead, pressing her fingers experimentally against the visible bump underneath it. She’d quickly decided she shouldn’t try that again. 

“I was afraid for a moment, when I found you. I had to do some major CPR on you.” Lala spoke easily, seasoning their meal as she talked about Yuna’s near-death experience. “I was surprised at first, to realise you had a pulse. And then I thought you wouldn’t make it.” 

Yuna paused in laying out the chopsticks. “Was it really that bad?” It was odd to think she had nearly died. It was harder to wrap her head around than the amnesia. “Did you really think I was going to die?”

“Yeah.” Lala plated their meal and went to scoop them rice. “This enough for you?” When Yuna nodded, Lala got another bowl for herself. “You weren’t breathing. You were faceup, in the shallows of the water. I was really afraid of hypothermia. Then there was that gash in your head - I think it’s gonna scar. I did my best stitching it up, but you can understand that wasn’t my first priority.”

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” There was a niggling at the back of Yuna’s mind that she couldn’t identify. Yuna decided to ignore it and focus on the present conversation. “Thank you. For not walking away.”

“I nearly did. You had a lot of water in you.” Lala set their food on the table and walked to the fridge. “Do you like apple juice?”

“... I don’t know.” 

Lala glanced up at her, and then back again, humming in consideration. 

“Alright. I’ll pour you a glass anyway. You need something sweet in you to replace all the food you’re not eating.”

“Okay.” Yuna shifted in her seat as Lala finally settled down across from her. They started to eat, Yuna careful of her still aching jaw. She felt much better than yesterday, but she definitely needed more rest. 

They were quiet as they ate, Yuna not sure how to continue their conversation. Lala, on her part, seemed to be lost in thought, a slight frown on her face. Yuna wasn’t quite sure what to make of her. 

Who did that? Tried to save another person’s life? 

Yuna wasn’t sure what sort of person she was before this, but she wasn’t sure she’d have made the same choice. 

\---

Yuna offered to clean the dishes, fighting against Lala’s protests. She had cooked, Yuna would clean. Besides, it was the least she could do, considering everything. 

“Thanks.” Lala sighed as she tapped her fingers against the table. “Ignore me; I’m just conditioned to cleaning up after myself in the kitchen.” 

Yuna smiled understandingly. The house, outside of her bedroom, which was where Yuna had been staying, was well-kept. Yuna hadn’t had much chance to explore, hesitant to encroach on the other girl’s privacy. Lala watched as Yuna began to clean, obviously biting her tongue when Yuna was surprised by the hot water.

“You still have some memories,” Lala began, her fingers drumming a steady beat. “As far as I can tell, they’re all everyday motor functions. So your brain isn’t that messed up.”

“It doesn’t feel like that.” Yuna felt a laugh bubble mirthlessly out of her throat. “When you can’t even remember a simple thing like your name…”

“Those are learnt. Names are bestowed upon you; you’re socially conditioned to respond to them. Like how a dog will answer to a name after a while. They’re not innate.” Yuna listened intently. “Stuff like washing the dishes, that’s muscle memory, I’m guessing. I’m not surprised you still have that. But the memories you’ve lost - generally, they’re understood to be stored right where you were hit.” Lala’s fingers stopped tapping. “You might never get them back again, I’m afraid.”

Yuna didn’t realise she was gripping the edge of the sink until Lala came up to her, resting a hand gently over hers. She didn’t say anything else. 

Frankly, Yuna thought she’d said enough. 


	3. 1.3 - the crack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the response guys! if anything, do continue commenting so I know how it's coming across for you. i have a bunch of stuff written already, but it's always great to rewrite and tweak so i'm always engaging you:) 
> 
> also, to everyone who commented about lala: yes, she's suspicious alright.

3.

Byulyi’s family had cried. Yongsun had wanted to be the one that told them, had insisted because she was Byulyi’s best friend - still was, she refused to believe that Byulyi was gone, even though it was nearing day five, and they still hadn’t found her. The man from the suicide patrol team that Yongsun had talked to that night on the river bank - he called often. Yongsun had saved him in her phone as ‘Hope’. 

Jeongeun-unnie had offered, but Yongsun hadn’t allowed her. It didn’t feel right, she wanted to tell her. Jeongeun-unnie had been on the bridge, but hadn’t been able to stop Byulyi from going over the edge. Hadn’t been able to guess that the boy would grab onto Byulyi and throw them both over. Jeongeun-unnie had failed her. 

(Which her - Byulyi or Yongsun - Yongsun didn’t want to decide.)

She hadn’t spoken to Jeongeun-unnie much lately. 

Byulyi’s youngest sister, Yeseol, was the hardest to watch. Yeseol was in the middle of middle school. Yongsun couldn’t imagine what that was like, having to listen to someone tell you that your elder sister was gone - no, missing. Yongsun thought of her own sister then - maybe she should give her a call. 

Byulyi’s father had pleaded with her. Asked her to tell them that she was alright. That she was in hospital, maybe badly injured, but alive. Byulyi’s mother had asked her why Yongsun had let her eldest daughter go out on the bridge that night at all, why couldn’t they have just driven by? 

Yongsun didn’t have an answer to that one. 

She promised them the company was trying their best to get them information, that the CEOs were both putting in money into the effort. The police and the suicide watch patrol had sent out more search teams, but as time went on, Yongsun knew that they were slowly coming to the conclusion that Byulyi was lost to the river. Trawling the riverbed was not an option, she knew. Resources were better spent elsewhere. 

She left two hours after she’d arrived, having been coaxed into having some tea that Byulyi’s second sister - who was back home on break from university - had decided to brew. Seulgi was the only one that hadn’t cried. Instead, Yongsun had felt her eyes on her the whole time she was there, watching. When Yongsun took her leave, Seulgi followed. 

“You shouldn’t have said it like that.” Seulgi let the door to their apartment close behind her, leaving them in the hallway. She kept her voice low. “You shouldn’t have said it like she’s dead.”

“I didn’t -”

“You did.” Seulgi looked a lot like Byulyi. She even had similar glasses. Byulyi had confessed to her one night that Seulgi drove her crazy. Always trying to copy her. Always stealing her clothes. Yongsun had laughed then. Typical younger sister behaviour. Wanting to be like her cool unnie. 

Byulyi had groaned then. “Don’t make me try to understand her feelings. I bet she’ll just be thrilled to have my things if anything ever happens to me.” 

Seulgi had Byulyi’s grit too. She met Yongsun’s look unflinchingly. The leader felt like crying. 

“I’m…” Her apology was cut off with a raise of Seulgi’s hand. 

“Don’t say it,” Seulgi said, her voice threatening. “Or else I’ll really get angry.” 

Yongsun swallowed, looked away. Silence.

“We have to believe, Yongsun-unnie.” Seulgi’s voice was soft. So like Byulyi’s. The thought made Yongsun’s heart ache. “If you start talking like that...you’re Byulyi’s person, unnie. You know that.”

Yongsun balled her hands into fists, hoping the pressure would calm her stinging eyes. She turned away and walked down the stairs. 

(Byulyi was Yongsun’s person too.)

(Everybody knew that.)

\---

Somehow, it wasn’t on the news yet. It had happened late enough - and quickly enough - that no reporters had caught wind of it. There were rumours though, from the Moomoos. And even though the company had canceled all their public schedules, they had kept their recordings and practices. Their CEO had thought that it would be good for them to keep busy. 

Hyejin killed the music, slumping against the wall next to it as she tried to catch her breath. They all were out of breath; they’d gone through an intensive dance practice with no breaks. Wheein laid out on the floor, her chest heaving. Yongsun went to grab their water bottles. 

“Let’s stop here,” Yongsun said, taking a sip from hers as she passed the other two theirs. She frowned when Hyejin refused her drink. “Hyejin.”

“I don’t need it.” Hyejin turned back to her phone, putting on another song. This one was low, with bass so heavy Yongsun could feel the floor vibrate under her feet. Wheein took a sip out of her bottle as she sat up; she watched her best friend go back to her position in front of the mirror. Yongsun opened her mouth to say something, but Wheein shot her a look. Yongsun fell silent. 

It was hard to talk to Wheein now. Not the same kind of hard that it was to talk to Jeongeun-unnie. With their manager, there was betrayal. But with Wheein - well. It felt like Wheein was mad at her, for some reason. 

Yongsun had been too far away. Yongsun couldn’t have done anything. 

(Byulyi had told her to stay.)

They watched Hyejin push herself through two more songs before staggering. Wheein was by her side in a flash, pulling her down next to her and pressing on her shoulders until she was pinned to the floor. Yongsun thought Hyejin would hit her - the scowl on her face seemed to imply some level of violence. But Hyejin just...gave up. 

Earlier, Jeongeun-unnie had caught them before their practice to tell them that the police were pressing the company to allow the force to release a statement. They wanted to let people know that Moon Byulyi was missing, and that people should be on the lookout for her. The company had wanted to keep it quiet first. But Yongsun had agreed that they had waited long enough. 

Two more days and it would be a week since the incident. People needed to know. 

“I’m going crazy.” Hyejin squeezed her eyes shut, breathless from exertion. “It’s driving me crazy not knowing where she is. If she’s even alive.” 

“Hyejin -”

“How can you two act like it’s okay? Like it’s normal for us to be here, practicing without her?” There it was. Yongsun was almost relieved to hear the anger in her voice. “How could you pretend like she never existed?” 

“Shut up.” Wheein slammed Hyejin’s wrists to the floor. She was straddling her friend now, leant over her, her hands tight around Hyejin’s slim wrists, her arms shaking. Yongsun could see it now, the crack in the calm Wheein had carried with her the past few days. She welcomed it even. 

They hadn’t cried yet. Or in Wheein’s case, she hadn’t cried enough. Yongsun found herself sitting on the floor, pulling her knees up against her, wishing she had Byulyi by her side. Byulyi would rub her back, wrap an arm around her shoulders, press herself against her side and bury her nose in Yongsun’s neck. She would be close, close enough that Yongsun could feel her breathing and be calm. Yongsun would know that she was there. 

Instead, Yongsun’s side was cold as she watched her two best friends fall apart, crying into each other’s shoulders, holding each other tight. She couldn’t help but feel failure on her tongue.


	4. 1.4 - the days after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuna tries to find her place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes below.

**4**

 

Lala was a little strange. Yuna didn’t want to judge - she hoped she hadn’t been the judgemental type before, something about that just didn’t sit well with her - but Lala kept some habits that made her wonder if Lala had any friends. 

For one, Lala didn’t really leave the house. She didn’t let Yuna leave either, citing that Yuna needed to rest more before she felt comfortable with letting her move around the city. The only times she did leave was for grocery shopping, but she only did that when Yuna was asleep. To keep an eye on her, she said. 

For another, Lala didn’t have photos up around the house. Yuna had been here for nine days already - she’d been counting since the day she first woke up in her place - and she had yet to see anything that gave her any clues as to who lived there. The one time Yuna had asked about her family, Lala had curtly replied that she didn’t have any. Yuna didn’t ask again. 

The apartment was small, really. Just the one bedroom with the ensuite bathroom, and the living room and kitchen. Yuna had tried to fight to switch places with her saviour to let her sleep outside. She had felt bad for taking Lala’s bed. Lala had shaken her head vehemently and refused to even consider it. 

On the fifth night, there had been a thunderstorm. Lala had crept into her room then, waking Yuna up. 

“Can I sleep with you?” Thunder roared outside, shaking the glass in their panes. Yuna lifted the blankets easily, letting Lala ease in. The smaller girl had held tight to a stuffed white tiger, worn and missing an ear. Lala had shifted as close to her as possible, wrapping an arm around her waist. Yuna’s heart starting racing in her chest, but she didn’t say anything. That night, Yuna stayed up listening to the rain pour outside and Lala’s deep breaths. 

They didn’t talk about it in the morning. Lala had slipped out at 4am, when Yuna had pretended to be asleep. 

Yuna was going stir crazy. Lala had a tv, but told her not to bother with it, because Lala couldn’t afford to pay for it to show anything. So they tried to pass time together - Lala would try and coax Yuna into playing board and card games with her. She had an impressive amount. Yuna was much better at the card games. She had a hell of a poker face. 

They were in the middle of a game of poker when Yuna finally found the courage to ask. “Lala, why haven’t we gone to the police?” 

Lala barely glanced up from her consideration of her cards. “Why would we need to?”

“I don’t know… maybe they can help me figure out who I am.” Yuna’s fingers twitched. “You said you didn’t find any ID on me.”

“I don’t trust them.”

“Why not?” 

Lala raised her bet - they were playing with potato chips. “They don’t ever do their job right. Trust me.”

Yuna searched the short-haired girl’s face. She couldn’t read it. “Maybe it’s worth a try anyway.” 

Lala finally looked up, her gaze heavy. “Don’t you trust me?”

“What?” 

“I’m looking for you, you know. I’ve been following the news - there hasn’t been anything about you. Or any missing persons. No one’s looking for you.” Yuna sucked in a breath. Lala had said it so matter-of-factly. She wasn’t trying to be unkind. 

She turned back to her cards, an ache more painful than anything she’d felt right after waking up somewhere in her chest. 

Yuna didn’t bring it up again. 

\---

She wondered if she had a family. She must have - everyone does. But maybe she’d lost them? Maybe she wasn’t close to them? 

Maybe, she thought, lying under the covers of the bed at night, feeling safe in the dark. Maybe they just didn’t know. Maybe she was a runaway, had been forced out for some reason or another. Or maybe they were dead. That was the kinder option. Maybe they just couldn’t look for her. 

She imagined it - a father, a mother. Maybe a sibling or two. Somehow, the idea of having sisters stuck with her. Two of them. Yuna liked the idea of having someone to play with, or talk to. Like having in-house best friends. 

Which led her to wonder about her friends. Did she have any? It would be sad if she didn’t. Watching Lala, Yuna decided that she did have friends in the past. Lala didn’t talk much about having any - just one or two asides that always seemed lined with disgruntledness. It was obviously a sore topic with her. 

Yuna hoped she had friends. Maybe they would look for her. 

But even as she thought that, she realised she was just hoping she’d meant something to someone. 

\---

The first time Yuna was left alone was on day ten. Lala had rushed out after breakfast, looking frustrated and angry. She’d gotten a call, on her handphone. She’d been getting a lot of them, lately. Yuna had never seen her pick up. 

She’d concentrated on her breakfast, trying not to seem interested in Lala’s conversation as the girl drifted to the bedroom to talk. From her spot by the kitchen, Yuna couldn’t hear anything. Yuna counted up to 142 before Lala came out again, upset. 

“I have to leave for a bit. Stay here, okay?”

Yuna nodded, continuing to eat her cereal as Lala tossed a few things into her backpack and left. Before going, she turned to stare at Yuna. 

“You’re not going to leave, are you?” 

Yuna blinked. “Where would I go?” 

An hour later, Yuna was still trying to understand the pleased look on Lala’s face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter, I know. Sorry about going AWOL. I've been trying to apply for university and scholarships and it's doing my head in. I have a bunch of stuff written already for this fic, but I'm trying to figure out if I should change up the timeline to flesh it out further. We'll see. 
> 
> But thank you for the response on the story so far, and for sticking with it! Feedback always appreciated.


	5. 1.5 - the crack (part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback appreciated, as usual. We're getting close to the end of the first main act, so bear with me!
> 
> Also: writing the girls in so much pain hurts me. they deserve happy things.

**5.**

 

Yongsun had grown used to having eyes on her. It was part of the joy of performing. Knowing that people were watching, were enjoying the stage, eager to find out what she could do next.

But she had never gotten used to the cameras. The other members would tease her about it a lot, how hyper-aware she was, how she’d adjust her behaviour accordingly - be louder, smile brighter. Wheein would joke about how Yongsun could find the one camera in the room, using nothing but her intuition.

There were a lot of cameras on her now. Yongsun had never hated them more than in this moment.

“So just read out the script.” The police officer was nice, but Yongsun couldn’t help but think of Byulyi whenever she saw her uniform and medals glinting under the light. Byulyi had wanted to be a police officer, growing up. That, or a bodyguard. She’d always wanted to protect people, she said. To do good, and to make people happy.

Yongsun still couldn’t meet the police officer’s eyes, even though it was their third meeting.

As she was ushered out from backstage onto the small stage, Yongsun took a deep breath, pulling on her leader mask. A leader must always look unruffled. A leader must always look like she has a plan. A leader cannot show weakness.

The reporters started snapping photos like crazy the moment she passed the curtains. Yongsun wasn’t alone in this press conference, thankfully. Wheein and Hyejin were right behind her.

(They had fought - raised their voices and put their foot down. The officer had relented.)

They made it to the podium, the police chief stepping aside. Yongsun took her place, with Wheein and Hyejin on either side. She placed the script neatly in front of her and began. It was a simple speech, for all purposes. Yongsun understood that they were there for sympathy. The reporters would have already heard the exact details of the incident from the police chief. Mamamoo was the human element.

She made it through the first few lines okay. She even thought she would make it all the way without any trouble. But then:

“Byul-ah, we hope you’re okay.” The words pressed itself against her ears, just like her heartbeat. She felt a hand - Hyejin’s? - on her shoulder. “We’re not giving up hope. It’s been six days, but we know you’re out there.” A rumble through the reporters. Yongsun tried to keep her gaze somewhere above them. “If anyone… _anyone_ has seen her, please. Bring her back home.”

Yongsun stepped off the podium, feeling exhausted. The reporters were buzzing, murmuring to each other. One voice rang clear above the others.

“Who are they kidding? It’s been a week.” Yongsun stopped then, ice filling her body. “Tell HQ we’re not going to run this.”

“There’s been no body.” Wheein had somehow grabbed the mic. “There’s been no body, so you can’t be sure.” Her voice was feverish, furious. “You can’t just give up on her.”

“She’s probably already dead.” Another reporter. Yongsun couldn’t find him in the crowd. “The first boy didn’t survive. What makes her so special?”

The police chief was trying to take the mic from her, but Wheein wouldn’t have it. “You don’t know Moon Byulyi like we do.” Eyes blazing, voice hard, Yongsun and Hyejin were the only ones that noticed how tightly Wheein gripped onto the mic. The way her lower lip trembled, just the slightest bit. Yongsun forced herself not to look away. “Don’t give up hope on her yet.” Hyejin grabbed her best friend’s wrist and pulled her along, Yongsun grabbing onto the other. None of them stopped for the crowd backstage - they kept going, going, going till they were at their van, parked in the parking lot. All three of them were breathing heavily.

“Fuck them,” Hyejin panted. “Fuck all of them.” Wheein shook her head, staring at the ground. Yongsun wrapped her arms around herself.

“What if they’re right?” Yongsun’s voice was soft. The other two looked at her, confusion in their faces. Too soft. The words burned as she tried again. “What if Byulyi really is…”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Wheein pushed her back against their van, the same fury at the reporters now directed at her. Yongsun bounced off it painfully, her back protesting. “Why do you always say things like that?”

“I’m just saying we have to think about it!” Yongsun hadn’t wanted to do it, hadn’t wanted to need to say it. “How long are we going to wait? One week? Two? A month? A year?”

“If it takes that long, we’ll wait!” Wheein looked at her like she was crazy. “Do you want her to be dead? Is that easier for you?”

“Of course not!” Yongsun felt like falling apart, like pieces of her were falling out of her seams and folds. She couldn’t. She couldn’t hold it together any longer. She’d tried. She’d held out. But hope hadn’t borne her good news so far. Yongsun couldn’t protect her heart forever. “Byulyi’s my _person_.” Yongsun pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to push the first tears she’d cried since that night back into her body. “Fuck.”

They were silent. There was nothing else left to say.

(A leader must always look unruffled. A leader must always look like she has a plan. A leader cannot show weakness.)

(“Stay here, okay?”)

\---

The first time they ever acknowledged it was sometime during their _Um Oh Ah Yeah_ preparations. Byulyi had just finished shooting as Yul for their music video, and Yongsun - well, Yongsun had been more flustered than usual. She didn’t like it when Byulyi flirted with her with the wig and binder on. Yongsun missed seeing her face framed by long locks of hair.

There was a slight amount of delirium that hovered over the four of them; they’d been filming for close to thirteen hours at this point, and everyone just wanted it to be done. Wheein led the way to the dressing rooms. She did a good job of ignoring how Hyejin leant on her to try and throw her off-balance. Yongsun had to admire their energy as they bickered good-naturedly, and she listened idly as she trailed behind, already looking forward to at least an hour’s nap on the sofa. An arm slid across her shoulders. Yongsun didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

“Hey,” Byulyi greeted, a soft smile on her face. She was back with her hair down, dressed in the pink striped outfit. Yongsun preferred this look on her. She thought the rapper’s hair was done particularly cutely. “How are you doing?”

“Tired.” Yongsun’s own smile felt like a cheap imitation of the one she was receiving. “How much longer?”

“I’d say another few hours. We only have the solos left, right?” Yongsun nodded, because that seemed right. Byulyi’s hand drifted down, pressing lightly against Yongsun’s lower back. “And what about here?”

“A bit of an ache,” Yongsun answered, hurrying to add on before Byulyi could say anything. “But I’m fine.”

“You sure?” The rapper searched Yongsun’s face for any trace of a lie. “‘Cause I can get you a hot water bottle. You shouldn’t be straining your back, Yongdonnie.”

“Yah, don't be so worried about me.”

And really, Yongsun should have seen it coming. “I’m always gonna worry about you, Yeba. I like you too much.”

Byulyi was still laughing when they entered the dressing room, Yongsun red-faced and embarrassed. The leader promptly flopped onto the second sofa in the room, the two younger ones having claimed the other. Byulyi looked between her two choices and knelt down in front of Yongsun, playfully prostrating before her.

“Oh great Yongsun-nim, may I share your sofa with you?”

“No.” Yongsun replied, turning over so Byulyi couldn't see her face. There was a whiny noise - Yongsun could just see Byulyi pout, gosh - before there was a warmth snuggling up behind her, carefully arranging herself so that they were lying, front to back with space between them. Yongsun jabbed into Byulyi with her elbow.

“You don't listen to instructions very well, do you?”

“You didn't want a hot water bottle, but I’m sure your back is killing you.” It was a little annoying, how well they could read each other’s expressions. “Just relax a bit.” Without asking for permission, Yongsun felt nimble fingers start to rub her back, occasionally pressing to relieve the tension in the muscle. “Here?” Yongsun made a non-committed sort of noise, but inside she was pleased. They fell quiet as Byulyi worked, listening to the light snores that had started from the other side of the room. When she was done, she felt Byulyi press her nose into the crown of her head. “Is this okay?”

Yongsun’s racing heart rate slowed. Reaching behind her, she twined their fingers together, bringing them to her chest. Here, there were no cameras, no one who could see them that Yongsun didn't want to. She murmured, careful not to disturb the peace that had settled over them at that moment.

“You're lucky I like you too, Moon Byulyi.”

(She didn't need to turn around to know the rapper was smiling.)

\---

Their CEO hadn’t been surprised when he caught them the first time. Annoyed, but not surprised.

“Keep it out of the studio, girls.” Kim Do Hoon said, a hand covering his eyes as he quickly backtracked out of the practice room Yongsun had booked. “And meet me in the break room in ten minutes.”

They'd walked down there together, not quite hand in hand, but close enough. Neither of them knew what to expect; they had so much working against them. They were girls, they worked together, what would their fans think, they were _girls_.

That last one scared them the most.

They stood outside the break room, both egging the other to be the one to open the door. In the end, it was Yongsun who did, because Byulyi was a scaredy cat who couldn’t even order from the wait staff at restaurants.  

Their CEO was hunched over a cup of coffee, his leg bouncing under the table. He didn't look up till they reached him, hovering and unsure of what to do next. He waved to them to sit distractedly.

“How long has this been going on?” He raised an eyebrow. They shared a glance with each other.

“Two weeks, sir.” Yongsun curled her fingers against her palm, felt her nails dig into the fleshy bits. They would leave marks, she was sure of it. Do Hoon had become such an important figure in her life - he hadn’t just taken a chance on her all those years ago when she became a trainee. He had nurtured her, pushed her to be better, kept her focused and was patient when she failed. Hyejin wasn’t the only one who held him in high regard.

“The kissing bit?” Yongsun was startled at the question.

“Uh, yes sir.”

Do Hoon nodded. His leg was still bouncing.

The silence stretched the limits of bearable before he took a deep breath. Yongsun absently noted his leg shaking stopped too. “Look, I wasn't surprised to catch you guys, and I doubt anybody who knows you two will be either. _However_ ,” this he stressed, coming closer to make sure they were both listening. “- you need to keep that out of the studios.” He made a face. “Other people use them too, you know.”

Byulyi started to laugh, sounding overwhelmed. “That's it?”

Do Hoon shook his head. “You girls need to be careful. I assume Wheein and Hyejin know?” At their nods, he sighed. “And Jeongeun?” Another nod. “Then you should keep it that way. Not everyone in the company will accept it, and we don't want people to leak it to the press, or the fans. We can't control public reaction _that_ much.” Yongsun nodded seriously. Byulyi’s hand found her’s, rubbing her thumb over the back of it till Yongsun felt some of her earlier panic slip away. Do Hoon caught the motion, and smiled. Yongsun blushed. “So who made the first move?”

Yongsun wanted to melt through the floor when Byulyi proudly puffed out her chest and pointed at the leader.

(Their CEO wasn't surprised by that either.)

\---

The restaurant was busy as always, full of patrons. The owner had sat them in their usual spot - a table for six under the photograph of all four of them. She called that her restaurant’s second biggest achievement. The first went to serving really good naejangtang.

Yongsun was picking at her food, her appetite not quite returned. The seat to her right was empty.

Opposite her, Wheein and Hyejin were quiet as well. They hadn't really said anything to each other since the press conference two weeks ago. Things had changed now. It was obvious to everyone that they weren't dealing with the absence well.

In the days immediately after the conference, there had been other things to distract them. Keeping up with the news, with the police chasing leads and tips from people who were calling in left and right, swearing that they had seen Byulyi, walking into a store, dressed in a school uniform, crossing the street. Every flare of hope had died as the days went by, and every lead ended up cold. Yongsun had wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

(And cry, and cry, and cry.)

Jeongeun-unnie was the one to break the silence.

“You guys need to eat more.” She kept her eyes on her own food, focused on actually eating. As if putting effort into the action would force them to follow her example. Yongsun had tried - the stew, which normally she enjoyed -wasn't settling right in her stomach today. She set her spoon down and leant back in her seat. The fingers of her right hand buzzed. Yongsun curled them up into a fist.

“You didn't eat anything today, Yongsun.” It grated on her, that she was seated right next to their manager. “At least eat half of the noodles.”

Yongsun squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to remain stubborn. The other two stayed out of it.

“I’m really not hungry.”

A pause. “I'm worried about you.”

A part of Yongsun wanted to fight, to snap that she had no right, not her, but a voice - a voice that sounded suspiciously like Byulyi, really - was telling her that it was okay. Yongsun took a deep breath. Let it out. Let her fingers uncurl.

(Felt the phantom touch of a warm thumb.)

The noodles, the stew, it all tasted bland on her tongue. Yongsun sat on her hand to have something to hold on to. 


	6. Interlude: A Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet another stranger comes forward to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, un-beta'ed and unedited. Author's note at the end.

**Interlude 1.**  

Ining sighed as she leant back in her chair. She was used to weird characters coming into her office as a private eye, but this one had to take the cake.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to look for this... Moon Byulyi? Who may or may not have died at the river?"

"I want you to find her. Because I know she's alive." The man looked haunted, eye bags heavier than hers on his face. He was much older, maybe in his late-forties. Ining suspected he'd been divorced at least once - the suit looked like the type of suit a woman would pick out to make a man look good. It was fraying at the sleeves - the man tugged them into his hands when he noticed her scrutiny.

Ining pulled out a paper meant for reporting, clicking her pen as she set the recorder closer to him and turned it on.

"Date is the 2nd of October. Time 4.24pm. Client is... name?"

"Jung Taemin."

"Mr Jung stepped into my office today with supposed evidence that idol Moon Byulyi from popular girl group Mamamoo somehow survived a fall into the Han River. It should be noted that her fall was an accident - in trying to stop a boy from committing suicide, she was somehow tugged over and fell herself. Her body has not been found. She has been declared missing, presumed dead. It has been a week." The man nodded along to all the facts. Ining clicked her pen again. "Those are the facts as we know it. Tell me Mr Jung, what evidence do you have that Ms Moon is alive?"

"I'm a taxi driver. That night I was driving by the river. There's always a lot of couples looking to get home from there late at night. A girl flagged me down, and she had her friend - or someone I guessed was her friend - by her side. I had to help her into the car."

"And the girl was Moon Byulyi?"

"I think so." The man scratched his neck nervously. "I didn't recognize her. She was a little wet - the first girl told me her friend got drunk and fell into the river."

Ining put her pen down and crossed her arms. Plausible reasoning. Good way to cover her tracks - whoever this girl was. "And where did you take them?"

"I don't remember. But it was near here." Taemin reached out for her pen and paper and scribbled down an address. "When the news came out that she was missing, I thought about it again. The girl was really fidgety." It was a lead that was worth looking into at least. But one bit stood out to her. She clicked her pen again.

"Why haven't you gone to the police with this information?"

"I did. But nothing came out of it." Typical. The world didn't stop turning just because one woman went missing, unfortunately. And in a country like South Korea, suicides were commonplace. "That's why I came to you."

Ining wanted to ask about how he knew about her, but decided not to in favour of focusing on the important things. "Fine. I'll look into it." She tapped her pen on the table. "I'm assuming we should talk about payment?"

The man blanched, but to his credit, he didn't back down. Instead, he reached into his pocket to draw out his wallet. "How much?"

"Wow, you're really serious." Ining reached over and stopped the recording. "How much are you able to give?" Her rates were on the low side, especially considering her skill sets and track record. Taemin sighed as he began to rifle through his notes. A measly $200.

Ining held his gaze for a long moment. And then she slid the money back to him. "Buy me the dollar ramen at the corner shop and I'll look into it." Taemin's mouth dropped, but Ining was already getting out of her chair and pulling on her coat. When the man hadn't moved, she tilted her head questioningly. "You coming?"

"Yes, yes." He nearly fell out of his seat. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Ining muttered, tucking the slip of paper with the address into her pocket. She held the door open for Taemin to slip past, her thoughts already on the case. "We might already be too late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I know I've been gone for a long time. I'm sorry. 
> 
> I know you've probably heard this line a lot from authors that go quiet for a long time, but life really has been a rollercoaster for me. But I'd like to thank everyone who commented on the story before and while waiting - reading them again made me want to give it another chance. Posting this bit took a bit of courage, but I didn't want to leave you guys hanging. 
> 
> Hope you like this update. I have one more chapter written that I'll be posting tomorrow. Please do comment and let me know what you think.


	7. 1.6 - the departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuna's in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, second chapter of the two I'd written. Please do check out the previous chapter for the interlude - otherwise the end of this one won't make sense. 
> 
> Thanks for all your support and feedback. We've come to the end of Act 1.

**6.**

Yuna decided she didn't like the city. What little of it she had seen from Lala's window, at least. All the rooms were small, for one. It was beginning to drive Yuna crazy. There were only so many times she could pace the apartment; she probably could walk it blind at this point. 

Lala sometimes talked about the countryside, where she was born. Yuna liked the sound of it - land that stretched as far as the eye could see, bigger houses where you could own a dog or two. Yuna had volunteered the idea that maybe the reason why no one was looking for her here was because she wasn't born here. Lala had given her a long, considering look then. 

Yuna passed the time with Lala's books, trying to figure out what was wrong with her, trying to make sense of the world outside the four walls, trying to alleviate boredom. Her favorite was the Greek myth of Orpheus, the man who went to the Underworld to try and bring his love back to life. The ending was tragic, but Yuna supposed that she could relate to the myth slightly. It had nothing whatsoever to do with her wish that someone was searching for her. 

That was what she told herself, at least. 

Lala also had an extensive pop music collection. Yuna had taken to listening to some of them, drowning her thoughts in music with the volume turned up so loud her ears rang for a while after. It helped keep the stronger emotions of helplessness at bay. 

And so the days passed, until Yuna lost count. She was still trying to get her body back under control - some days her muscles ached for reasons she couldn't fathom. Bone deep and excruciating, Lala had frowned when Yuna had brought it up to her. 

"Your muscles are atrophying from the lack of use. You must've done a lot of exercise when you… before." Yuna bit her lips in frustration. "Maybe we can get you into some minor physical therapy. Small things to keep the muscles warm at least."

So every morning and afternoon Yuna made herself go through a series of basic movements - stretches and cardio that also helped take her mind off things. 

But always -  _ always _ \- she wished for something to happen. To move her story forward. If this was to be the rest of her life? 

She didn't think she could bear it. 

\- - - - -

"Is this really necessary?" Yuna fingered her long blonde hair worriedly. She liked it this way. Behind her, Lala sighed in frustration. 

"Yes, Yuna. I've been meaning to do it before - it's hard for me to check on your wound otherwise. And cutting it short won't be that big of a change - you look good with short hair."

"Really?"

"Yeah, trust me." Lala brought the scissors closer to her scalp. "You have the features for it."

"I don't know." Yuna hesitated still because she didn't have a lot of her old life left. "What if it makes it harder for people to find me?"

"Have you ever considered that maybe you've had short hair all along and no one could find you because your hair's grown out?" They were running with Yuna's theory that she was a runaway, because why not? "This way, we would be doing you a favour."

"But do a lot of people have blonde hair?" Yuna eyed the bottle of hair dye on the sink counter with suspicion. "Your hair is black. A lot of people on the street have black hair."

"People our age dye it all the time." Lala snapped the scissors in warning. "Trust me, Yuna."

Yuna kept quiet as she took the tool to her hair, keeping her gaze resolutely on the tap. She could feel her hair falling around her, could see it fall onto the counter, the sink. Yuna tried to swallow the roiling feelings in her gut. 

When Lala was finally done with her, Yuna looked up. Lala had taken a hair clipper to her head too, giving her side shaves that revealed most of the scar on the right side of her head. Yuna had to admit though that it wasn’t as obvious as she’d been afraid it would be. 

"There." Lala ran her fingers gently over the still healing skin, sending shivers up and down Yuna's spine. Her voice was soft as she continued. "You like it better now?"

Yuna shrugged non-committedly. "I look like a boy."

Lala laughed. "Well, you're a very good looking one at least. Idol-worthy," she teased. Yuna sighed. She held herself still as Lala began the process of dyeing it, not wanting to distract her from her job. When she was done, Lala sat down on the toilet bowl behind her as they waited for the dye to work, just watching her in the mirror. She hadn't been around much lately, actually going for lessons now. Yuna found she had missed her presence. Chatting with Lala was always a good way to pass time. 

"So I've been thinking about what you said. About the countryside." Yuna blinked at her in the mirror. The med student turned her eyes to her hands as she removed the dye-stained gloves. "I think it's a good idea."

"What's a good idea?"

Lala gave her a fond look. "I have a grandmother there, and she can look after you. That way you can focus on getting better while I keep an eye on things here for you. If anything comes up, I'll let you know."

Yuna's heart started to race in her chest, and hoped Lala couldn’t hear her excitement. "Ahjumma has a small farm there. You could help her - that'll keep you busy too. She's by the coast, so maybe you could help her out on the mud flats. She sometimes has to gather clams to sell."

"But I could be from here." She wasn’t too sure of that either, but she had to say it anyway. 

"And no one's looked for you." Lala looked at her sadly. "It's not good for you, to be cooped up in here all day. All the time."  _ And whose fault was that _ , Yuna wanted to say, but bit her tongue. The blue sky, the sea and a purpose. That was what Lala was really offering here. "It hurts me to see you so depressed." Yuna began to play with the bottle of dye, rolling it between her palms just to give herself something to do. "And maybe... it could give you a fresh start." Lala wasn't looking at her now as she said that. "You need to start thinking about who you are if your memories don't come back. If no one finds you."

The bottle stilled in her hands. She'd thought about that - of course she'd thought about it. It seemed like the only thing she thought about nowadays, and no amount of books or exercise could keep those thoughts away. Maybe Lala was right. Maybe it was time to think about the rest of her time. 

Meeting Lala’s eyes in the mirror, Yuna nodded. Maybe going away would help stop the throbbing of her heart in her chest, at least. 

\- - - - - 

They leave two days later. In the early morning, so that Lala could make it to her morning class, she said. Lala called them a taxi, which waited for them on the street in front of Lala’s apartment building as Yuna makes one last survey of the apartment for things she might have missed. It was laughable, how little she really owned. A few of Lala’s clothes, stuffed into a plastic bag. A book or two that she was in the middle of reading. The pack of cards they played games with each night. She didn’t even own a wallet. 

Lala was in the living room, staring out the window when Yuna finally left the bedroom. The sound of her approach made Lala turn to her, a thin smile on her face. Yuna wasn’t quite sure what to say to her, because Lala would be coming with her to the country town that her grandmother lived in of course, but this would be the first time since she woke up that Yuna would be leaving the apartment. Would see the world around her. This city that had robbed her of her memory, of her sense of self. Yuna wasn’t sure if the feelings shifting in her stomach were good or not. 

“Nervous?” Lala was always able to call her out on her emotions, no matter how much Yuna tried to hide them. Even the ones that would have required a lot of scrutiny to uncover. Yuna shrugged. Lala’s eyes softened then, as she took a step closer. Yuna tried not to take a step back. 

“It’s okay to be nervous. You’ve been through a lot.” Lala’s hand reached up to trace the scar on Yuna’s head. Yuna clenched her fists tightly, hating the touch. Sensing her reluctance, Lala dropped her hand with a frown. It lasted only for a moment - long enough for Yuna to catch - before the smile was back on her face. “I’m sorry it has to be like this. For you.”

“No, no. I’m… grateful. In my own way.” Yuna managed a small smile. “Thank you for saving me that night. I would’ve died for real, if it wasn’t for you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Lala shuffled her feet, her gaze directed somewhere behind Yuna. “We should go.”

“Wait. I made you something.” Yuna had also gotten into the habit of folding papers to stave off the boredom. Small things like paper planes, but the movements came easily to her, and soon she was able to fold more intricate things like paper cranes. She presented one to Lala now, a small thing that sat easily in the palm of her hand. There was a letter for Lala inside - and it wasn’t much, not nearly enough to convey her gratitude, but it would have to do.

Lala took it with an open mouth, her eyes wide. “It’s not much, I know,” Yuna rubbed the back of her neck nervously, feeling heat bloom across her cheeks. “But I wanted to say thank you.”

She was not prepared for the hug that came her way. Lala had a strong grip that her still sore muscles protested slightly. But Yuna returned it all the same, hoping to convey some of that gratitude through the action. 

It took her a moment to realise that Lala was crying into her shirt. “Hey, hey,” she tried to soothe her, patting her head awkwardly. “Don’t cry.” 

“I’m sorry.” Lala pulled away, wiping at her eyes angrily. “I don’t know why - it’s a small thing, you’re right, but - oh gosh.”

Yuna let her regain her composure in silence, watching her for any sign that she would cry even more. But when Lala managed a watery smile, Yuna grinned and used her sleeve to wipe off the rest of the tears on her face. “There,” she murmured softly. “You’re all good.” 

Lala sniffled, grabbing her hand before Yuna could draw it away completely. “Thank you, Yuna. This means a lot to me.” 

“It’s really nothing.”

“It’s really  _ not _ .” Lala took another step into Yuna’s space, leaving them very close to each other. Yuna let Lala hug her, unsure of where to place her free hand. In the end, she settled it on the small of Lala’s back. Lala’s breath was hot on her neck. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You’re coming to visit often, right? I mean, what if your ahjumma hates me?”

“She’s not going to hate you. You’re perfect.” Lala squeezed her tighter. “Utterly perfect. I don’t regret saving you at all that night.”

Yuna stilled. Lala kept her in her grip for another long moment. When she finally stepped away, she reached her other hand to caress Yuna’s face. Yuna wanted to turn away from the touch - it felt too intimate - but allowed it in the end. Lala was probably trying to comfort herself. 

Besides, it was a short touch - as soon as Lala did it, she pulled away. She held Yuna’s gaze as she said something else, words that Yuna would puzzle over the entire ride to the train station. 

“Don’t hate me too much when you’re gone. I just want you to be happy.” 

Yuna would eventually decide that, just like her family and her distrust of the police, it was yet another thing she wouldn’t understand about Lala. And as she watched the scenery change from the city to the countryside outside the train window, Yuna decided that it didn’t really matter. 

Lala had saved her life. The least she could do was make her new one count. 

\- - - - - 

It was strange how complacent you could get when things were going in your favour. Lala, in her happiness that her crazy plan was actually working, forgot to keep her eyes peeled for other eyes that might have been watching them. 

Across the street from where the taxi was waiting to take Yuna away from the city - and thus, away from discovery - Ining was ambling down the sidewalk, taking in her surroundings with a fresh eye. She’d been searching the area for a week, hoping to find some clues as to where Moon Byulyi may have been hidden, but to no avail. Whoever it was that was holding her hostage - because that was definitely what had happened here, if Moon Byulyi had really survived the fall - had hidden her very well. Everyone Ining had questioned hadn’t seen her.

Even the sketch she’d drawn of the girl who had supposedly taken Moon Byulyi away hadn’t jogged anyone’s memory - to be very fair, it wasn’t a good sketch. Taemin just hadn’t been paying enough attention to provide good details. And his memory had been dulled by time. Ining knew the longer this dragged on, the harder it was going to be to track her down. And she had other cases too - the standard adultery ones that kept her in business. She couldn’t do this pro bono case forever. No matter how much it pained her to say so. 

What bothered her the most was why didn’t Moon Byulyi just turn herself in? What was stopping her from coming out from hiding, from trying to escape from her captor, from trying to be noticed? Her kidnapper wasn’t staying in a quiet place at all - the apartment building she had narrowed it down to appeared to be private university housing - so the kidnapper was probably a university student. That would have matched Taemin’s description of her. Early-20s, dressed casually. 

No, if Moon Byulyi was truly capable of escaping, she would have found a way to. Which filled Ining with some amount of dread: what had her kidnapper done to her? 

She was going to give it one last shot today. Walking down the street one last time, Ining scanned the mostly empty streets as the area came alive around her. The supermarket on the corner began to open, the breakfast place next to it was setting out their tables. Ining contemplated stopping to grab a bite there. 

It was by sheer luck that she absentmindedly took note of the taxi that had been idling in front the building for a while. It was almost out of her sight completely when two girls stepped out of the building, one of them wearing a cap, and the other carrying a plastic bag in one hand. They had their arms linked, and Ining would have been quick to dismiss them as university students going to school if it weren’t for the features of the taller girl. Something nudged at the back of her mind as she stopped to get a closer look, but the taller girl was already bundling into the car, her dark hair the last thing Ining saw before the girl in the cap slipped in after her. 

Moon Byulyi had long blonde hair, Ining considered as the taxi revved up and pulled out of its spot. She jotted down the license plate of the car, time and location in her notebook anyway, before heading to the breakfast place, feeling miserable in her new shoes that she was still trying to break in. Taemin would be disappointed that she hadn’t managed to turn up anything. 

It wouldn’t be until much later in the day, when she was clearing up her desk of Moon Byulyi’s case file that she comes across the photo of Moon Byulyi in a boyish haircut from one of the idol group’s music videos. Ining stilled, her eyes narrowing as she tried to recall the exact details of the taller girl’s face. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Fuck. 

She reached for her phone immediately, dialing a number she knew from heart. She was going to need help. 

Because Moon Byulyi  _ was _ alive. And in a lot of trouble. 

 

**End of Act 1.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you once again for bearing with me with the updates. And especially to those of you who left comments saying it was okay. I'm glad I could bring you guys some measure of happiness with this story!


	8. 2.1 - The Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time goes on. Yongsun struggles - and struggles, and struggles, and struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to all everyone who's still reading the stuff I write. 
> 
> As usual, unedited, un-beta'ed. I just had to get it out.
> 
> Important note: Due to timeline discrepancies, I had to change some dates around - so Ining started looking for Byulyi on the 2nd of October - not the 23rd. So assume that at least two months (three months?) have passed since then to this chapter.

**Act 2.**

 

**2.1.**

 

Yongsun shivered against the cold. Winter had set in - really set in - when she hadn’t been looking. Like a cat digging its claws in deep into wool, Yongsun could feel the faint wisps of it even though her clothes - even though she was bundled up in two layers and a padded jacket. She took the final few steps to the company building lost in thought, wondering if someone was going to ask her about New Year’s plans.

It wasn’t something anyone wanted to talk about, really. The entire company avoided the topic as much as possible, when they could. The newer staff members - the ones who hadn’t seen Mamamoo grow from their trainee days till today - they didn’t quite get it. But they were a saving grace, in their own ways. Levity was much needed nowadays. 

Mamamoo was in trouble. They were still getting booked for shows, but the absence of their rapper was obvious, especially because they refused to tweak the choreo to replace her, and to take over her rap parts in the song - letting the pre-recorded track do it for them. Their energy and playfulness was still there - they were professionals, after all. But it just wasn’t the same.

So they’d lost their position as the second most sought-after act at festivals. The Moomoos were holding on, but newer fans and casual observers didn’t seem to understand why they didn’t just replace her. It was entertainment. Things had to move on. 

But just because people had started to forget didn’t mean anyone at RBW had. Yongsun took solace in that.

“Hey Yongsun.” B.O. gestured her into the recording studio with a smile. Yongsun managed one in return, shrugging off her coat and scarf, dropping them onto the one couch in the small room. She nodded to the sound technicians and Kim Do Hoon. Their producer gave her a long look before nodding and turning back to his notes. 

She was recording a new song today. After announcing an official hiatus about a month ago, the remaining members had pretty much split to do their own solo activities. Wheein was working on at least two more collab songs with artists from different companies, while Hyejin was trying her hand at acting. But Yongsun was right where she’d always been - recording and singing in an RBW studio. Today was a drama OST that B.O. had been commissioned for. Yongsun could barely remember which one. 

(She didn’t watch dramas anymore.)

“So here are the lyrics. Give them a look over, and we’ll go straight into it. You heard the demo I sent, right?” B.O. had the worst finger-drumming habit ever. He was drumming them now, unable to keep himself still. Yongsun did her best to ignore it. “Great. I would love to hear any thoughts you had on it.”

B.O. was a great guy, Yongsun thought as she nodded again and headed into the recording booth proper. Great, but too eager to show off his talent. He was improving as a producer though, she reflected as she set her lyrics onto the stand. This song was a pretty one. Quiet and emotional. 

Yongsun couldn’t help but feel like Byulyi would have been perfect for this song - not as a rapper, but a singer. She had surprising range, and could hit the high notes as easily as Yongsun could. While Byulyi couldn’t belt, she definitely had the charisma to pull it off. Yongsun tried not to think about that too much as she heard B.O.’s voice through her headphones. She flashed him a thumbs up to begin.

They went through two rehearsals before she’s asked to step out. Everyone was huddled near the sound deck when she entered, so Yongsun pulled up a chair and joined in their loose circle. B.O. played the track, his brows furrowed as he listened. 

“Your voice is a little thin here,” he pointed out, stopping at the pre-chorus hook. Once again, Yongsun thought of Byulyi singing it. She bit her tongue. “We need something flashier.”

“I don’t think so.” Yongsun had mulled over this for a long time when she first heard the song. “I can sing it stronger, but it needs to be quieter to work into the chorus. Otherwise, we’d be focusing on the note and not the trumpet that’s playing in the background.” 

“What trumpet?” B.O. was baffled. Yongsun offered him a regretful look. 

“The trumpets I was about to suggest you put in. Right now we’re relying on the hook to keep the listener invested in the chorus. It makes sense to put in something there like a motif to keep us listening, you know? Besides, it’ll be a nice counterpoint to the smoother instruments you have.” B.O. frowned as he considered this, but Do Hoon seemed to agree. 

“Listening to Yongsun sing this, I think she’s right. Consider what you’re doing here instrumentally. It can be much more complex. You want to tailor it to her voice specifically.” The producer sighed as he leaned back in his seat. Yongsun felt bad for him. Surely, he’d thought he had a good song in his hands. 

They chatted about it awhile more, going over how Yongsun’s vocals should sit in the song. Eventually they had to wrap up, but Yongsun was meant to be back in recording by the end of the week. She didn’t even hesitate to say yes. It wasn’t like she had much else to do these days. 

“Yongsun, wait.” Do Hoon didn’t quite command her, but Yongsun stilled as if she’d been reprimanded anyway. Her CEO caught the action and sighed, waving her into the corridor as he promised B.O. he’d be back in a bit. The producer had already turned back to his work. 

Yongsun hadn’t spoken to Do Hoon one-on-one since the incident. She always got the feeling he was avoiding her for some reason. The way he was shaking his leg while standing up set her nerves on edge even more. 

“How are you?” His question threw her off-guard. “You haven’t been looking so good, Yongsun.” 

Yongsun wanted to sigh but bit her lip instead. What a strange evaluation to make. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Because we haven’t had much time to talk since… you know.”

“We’ve been busy.” 

Do Hoon seemed disappointed by that. “Still. Have you been seeing anyone?”

Yongsun’s first reaction was to recoil. Why would she be seeing anyone? She wasn’t a  _ cheater _ . 

It wasn’t until she realised what it was he was talking about that she relaxed. “No,” she said, shrugging. “I haven’t been seeing a therapist.”

“You should.” Do Hoon uncrossed his arms, his eyes soft in sympathy. “Everyone else has. Why haven’t you?”

_ Because she wasn’t gone _ , Yongsun wanted to say. She was alive somewhere, Yongsun was sure of it. But she’d gotten looks for saying those kind of things before - looks that at first had been understanding, but slowly turned pitying and Yongsun couldn’t stand it. 

So instead she shrugged again. “We’ve been busy.”

“That’s no excuse.” His voice was steely this time, and Yongsun was reminded that she was standing in front of a man who had seen her through some of her roughest days as a trainee. “Yongsun, it’s not healthy to keep hanging on like this.” Yongsun wanted to spit at him. How dare he say things like that. He had no idea. No idea of how much Yongsun hoped and wished and prayed. 

So she didn’t say anything at all. Turned her head away and stared at a spot on the wall behind him. They stood in silence for a long moment. 

Do Hoon eventually sighed. Yongsun clenched her fists at the sound. “Byulyi wouldn’t want you to be like this, Yongsun.” This time, Yongsun did flinch. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard her name being spoken aloud since the incident, but it never ceased to remind her of the throbbing in her chest. Yongsun’s frown must’ve made Do Hoon realise the pain his words had caused. He gentled, chanced a step closer. Yongsun took a step back. 

“Yongsun.” He was pleading now. Soft. Coaxing. “You’re going to work yourself to exhaustion. Have you even been sleeping?” 

Yongsun focused even more intensely on the spot on the wall. Even through the film of tears. “I can’t.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own. “I can’t, because everytime I sleep I know she’s not there with me.” 

Do Hoon made an understanding noise. “But you know I’m right. We’re right. You need to talk to someone about this, Yongsun. You’re not healthy.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Yongsun took a step back. Another. “Please don’t make me talk about this.” 

“At least talk to Hyejin and Wheein. I know you’ve been avoiding them.” That was the final straw. Yongsun walked away, wrapping her arms around her. She would not think about them. 

Would not think about how she’d failed Byulyi in every possible way. 

\-----

The distance had been deliberate at first. She couldn’t talk to Wheein anymore. Wheein was too bright, too sensitive to people’s moods. She was upset over Byulyi’s disappearance. Yongsun would have made it worse. 

In the beginning, Yongsun had tried being preppy. Being optimistic. Carried on like they always had, ushering them to rehearsals and leading them through much quieter warm-ups. Hyejin had responded well, understanding what her unnie had been doing. 

But Wheein? Wheein had dragged her feet, been sullen and introspective. Been quiet and then invisible, almost. Sure, she turned up for rehearsal. Danced like her life depended on it. Worked out and dieted and did everything to keep herself stage ready. But her singing? 

Wheein couldn’t sing the happy songs anymore. Not in the same way she used to. 

Wheein, out of everyone in the team, had always found it hardest to hide her feelings. Had always worn her heart - if not on her sleeve - then right under her skin, under the layer that was closest to what people saw. Yongsun had had to bark at her more than once to buck up - and Wheein uncharacteristically followed without complaint. 

So Yongsun began to feel bad, a feeling that festered until it became a living, breathing thing that stoppered her throat until she couldn’t speak to Wheein anymore. She couldn’t tell you when it first happened - the choking back on words. But it happened, and Wheein didn’t say anything about it. 

Nothing at all. 

In fact, Yongsun suspected the only person Wheein ever spoke to anymore was Hyejin. Hyejin, who hadn’t been awake when Byulyi went over, who had woken up in the aftermath but had been no less affected. Hyejin had confessed to Yongsun once, after a long night of drinking -

(They did that often now. Hyejin would just show up at her door, carrying alcohol in plastic bags from the nearby convenience store, and Yongsun wouldn’t say anything. Just let her in.)

(Hyejin had confessed that Wheein felt partly responsible. For not running out to stop her, for now doing anything but sit down and watch as Byulyi went over. Hyejin had also confessed, wisdom beyond her years shining in her eyes, that Wheein blamed Yongsun for that too. 

(Yongsun had to drink heartily after that.)

At least Hyejin was holding up as alright as anyone could be. She had been the first to go for therapy, disappearing for two hours one day during a rehearsal and coming back, red-eyed and tear stained. She’d slipped them a card for a grief counselor and only said that she was good before she threw herself back into rehearsal, her footsteps clumsier that day. But lighter, somehow. 

Then Wheein had went, and then Jongeun-unnie, and then other members of the company until Yongsun was convinced that RBW alone was keeping the practice in business. Byulyi had touched a lot of lives. One didn’t just forget things like that. 

Yongsun had not gone. Not because she didn’t think she needed it, but because it felt too much like giving up on Byulyi. 

And while Byulyi may have left her, she had told Yongsun to  _ keep them safe _ . Yongsun couldn’t quite do that if she was on the therapy couch with them, now could she?

\-----

The evening chill seeped in the gaps of her clothes, sneaking in between her neck and scarf especially. She tucked her nose deeper into the cloth to keep herself warm as she walked up the sidewalk, ignoring the view of the river to her left. 

Seulgi turned when she heard Yongsun coming up, and Yongsun was struck - once again - but how similarly they smiled. Byulyi’s sister held a coffee out for her that Yongsun accepted gratefully. 

“How have you been, unnie?” Yongsun began to pluck at the sleeve of her cup, finding comfort in the feel of it under her fingers. Seulgi huddled closer, the two of them leaning on the railing with their backs to the Han River. “How’s recording going?”

“Alright.” Yongsun took a long pull. Latte, just the way she liked it. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“You got it for us last time.” In front of them, a huge lorry groaned along the road, and they let it pass curiously, wondering where it was in such a hurry to be. Yongsun hadn’t rushed for anything lately. 

“How’s school?” 

“School’s okay. Exams are over, so everyone can breathe a little easier. I’m still getting my results back.”

“You did well.” Seulgi was a bright kid, Byulyi had always insisted. A bit lazy, but smart. “Right?”

“Of course, unnie.” Seulgi nudged her with her elbow. “You sound like Byul-unnie. She wouldn’t ever ask how well I’d done. She’d just assume I’d done well.”

“Byul did like seeing the best in people.” Yongsun took another bracing sip. The warmth trickled down to her limbs. “I remember once she swore up and down that this creepy guy wasn’t trying to stare down her shirt. Although that probably had more to do with the fact that she never really saw herself as attractive…”

Seulgi snorted. “Are you kidding? My sister is so vain.” Yongsun had to laugh at that because yeah, that was a little true. 

“She was, wasn't she? She stole my bottle of facial essence, did I tell you that? I went to her place and saw it sitting on the bathroom sink. Still had the cartoon sticker I’d put on it and everything.” 

A pause. Seulgi shifted. “Speaking of,” she started, pausing to let another screaming lorry pass by. “How’s that going?”

“I’m moving the last of her stuff over to mine.” Byulyi didn’t have a lot of things in her apartment, considering how much time she spent in Yongsun’s. It just became easier, since they liked going out on their days off together. “Are you sure you guys don’t want anything else?”

“We’re taking the furniture. I’m sure she would have wanted you to have most of it anyway.” Photos, fan gifts, little mementoes. Byulyi had kept journals, so Yongsun held on to those too. There had been a small biscuit box tucked away in the back of the bookshelf. Yongsun didn’t know what it held, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to open it yet. 

They fell silent, simply enjoying each other’s company. They’d met each other a couple of times since Byulyi’s disappearance. Her presence was similar enough to Byulyi that Yongsun could almost close her eyes and pretend. 

“You know,” Yongsun started, her fingers plucking, plucking,  _ plucking _ again at the cup sleeve. “Our CEO asked me to meet with someone. To talk about Byulyi.” Seulgi tilted her head, listening. The wind picked up and played with the edges of their scarves, and they shuffled even closer together. Yongsun watched a couple walk past them on the sidewalk, hand in hand with smiles on their faces. She brought the cup closer to her face so that the steam could keep her warm. 

“I don’t want to talk to anyone about her, really. No one else would really understand.” 

“You can talk to me, unnie.” Seulgi’s voice sounded sad. “No one else would understand me either.”

Yongsun lifted her arm and pulled Seulgi closer, pressing her lips to the younger girl’s hair. Absently she noted that Byulyi and Seulgi didn’t use the same shampoo. She had to shake herself out of it before those thoughts could go anywhere else. 

“I know she’s still out there. Somewhere.” It could have been wishful thinking. Yongsun knew that. But the hope - dwindling as it were - was better than the alternative. 

“I know unnie. I hope so too.” Seulgi turned into Yongsun’s shoulder, her quiet cries hurting Yongsun’s heart. Yongsun had cried enough for a lifetime, it felt like. She’d run out of tears to cry. 

She held Seulgi for a long time, watching the street lights blink on as the night grew darker. The girl eventually exhausted herself and took a deep breath, her weight slumped comfortably against Yongsun’s side. Seulgi was taller than Byulyi. Yongsun appreciated this. 

“I’m sorry.”

“What did we say last time?” Seulgi offered her a watery smile.

“That we wouldn’t say sorry for the things we said and did when we met.” Yongsun smiled satisfyingly and reached up to ruffle her hair. Seulgi yelped and ducked away. 

“What? I’m not sorry!”

“Unnie!” Somehow, they devolved into bickering, fighting each other in a way that was almost familiar but not quite. Byulyi never set out to win, when she picked a playfight with Yongsun. Byulyi only ever wanted her attention.

Eventually, they quietened, both of them laughing at each other and themselves as they felt some of the melancholy lift. Finishing off her drink, Yongsun shook her empty cup as she began to walk, Seulgi in step next to her. In silence they approach the spot where Byulyi went over. 

It hadn’t taken long after the news of Byulyi’s disappearance for the memorial to be put up. Fans from all over and visited, leaving gifts and cards; photos and letters. Different people took turns maintaining it - RBW sent someone every few days to collect certain items and took them back to the company. Sometimes it was Yongsun. Sometimes it was Seulgi. 

But loosely grouped by the railing were also a bunch of paper animals. Some of them were things Byulyi and her had made together - others were things Yongsun folded herself when she came across things that reminded her of Byulyi. 

It had been Yongsun’s thing at first, mindlessly turning paper into little works of art. Byulyi had quickly become fascinated with the form, eager as she always was when it came to learning new things about Yongsun. Soon, it was something they did together in their spare time. Finding blueprints online, trying - and failing - with a bunch of papers. Yongsun had found a basket full of them when she cleared out Byulyi’s apartment. She’d begun bringing them here. 

Today she pulled out a folded flower that she distinctly remembered making with Byulyi. It had been a fun day out - they’d gone to the amusement park together, she’d managed to talk Byulyi into getting a bicycle for the day. They’d gotten home, exhausted, and were laying in the living room, just lazing with papers around them, when Yongsun felt something slip behind her ear. 

“There,” Byulyi had said, typical smug grin on her face. “A pretty flower for a pretty lady.”

(Yongsun had given Byulyi a strong smack for that.)

They’d dated the flower. It had been almost a year from the start of their relationship. 

Nestled amongst the other shapes, which were beginning to wilt and warp due to the snow and wet, it looked so innocuous. Another thing to miss at a glance. But not for Yongsun. For her, each piece stood out, linked to a memory. 

Maybe, that would be enough to bring her home.

“That’s a lot of shapes, unnie.” Seulgi reached a hand out to neaten one that had been knocked out of alignment. “How many more do you have left?”

“Not a lot.” Maybe a dozen or so. “Maybe I won’t put down anymore.”

“I was going to say.” Seulgi knocked her arm gently against Yongsun’s. “You should keep them. They mean something to you.” 

_ Something _ was a small word for all the things they meant to her.  _ Something _ was not enough. But Yongsun hesitated to call them  _ everything _ . Byulyi was much more than just origami shapes made out of paper. Her memories of Byulyi, unlike these paltry mementoes, would remain untarnished by wear and tear and the weather. 

Yongsun would always treasure those the most. 

\-----

Another day, another recording. Do Hoon asked Yongsun to come out of the booth as the last sounds of the strings faded out from the headphones, and Yongsun slid them off as she stepped out. 

“It’s sounding much better with your suggestions, Yongsun.” Do Hoon commented, patting BO on the shoulder. “Not that it wasn’t already good before.” The producer took it in his stride, bowing his head demurely. Yongsun waited for further instruction. “I think it’s good to call it a day here.” He checked his wristwatch. “Our reservation at the restaurant is coming up too. We need to get ready.”

“For what?” BO asked, and Yongsun stilled in packing up her things. Do Hoon made a clucking noise with his tongue. 

“Today’s the 22nd.” It took a moment, but when it did, BO looked immediately contrite. “Yeah. Oh.” The CEO shook his head and made to leave, deliberately gesturing with his head towards the door at Yongsun. Yongsun followed, her hands now clammy around the strap of her duffel bag. 

She’d known

(of course she’d known)

that today was Byulyi’s birthday. The company was having a dinner at a restaurant together to commemorate it, a private room booked out for them. Everyone who had worked with Byulyi was coming. 

Or, almost everyone. 

Yongsun was already shaking her head before Do Hoon could finish his sentence. “No, Do Hoon-nim, I’m not going. I already told you this.”

“But what else are you going to do, then?” His worry was clear in his tone, and Yongsun hated it. 

“I have my own plans.” Which consisted mostly of staying at home and steadfastly pretending it wasn’t her girlfriend’s birthday. “But have fun.” Yongsun took the half beat that Do Hoon took too long to respond to leave. She stilled when she felt his hand catch her arm. 

“Yongsun, please, wait.” Yongsun breathed out deeply. “At least spend time with Wheein and Hyejin. They’re not going either.” Yongsun bit her bottom lip harshly. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Then I’ll make it an order. From your boss.” Yongsun whipped around, angered. Do Hoon was firm though, his eyes boring into hers. “You’re not moving on, and you’re clearly not ready yet. Fine. But I refuse to let you shut out the people who love you.” Yongsun wanted to scream at him that it’s not her fault, that it was hard, that he didn’t understand - “And you three haven’t been the same since… the incident. Fix it. No one knew her as well as you guys did. And you should be relying on that, and each other during this time because of it.” 

Something gurgled in her tummy at his words, and Yongsun had to look away. She felt hot all over. It was true, but what did he expect her to do? No one was ready to talk about it - and especially not with her. Yongsun was drowning, and she knew it. She just didn’t want anyone seeing it. 

Do Hoon wasn’t expecting an answer, clearly, because the man nodded and left. Yongsun stood in the hallway a moment more before shaking her head clear and heading the opposite direction. She had no idea where she was going, really. Just… away. 

She found herself at her practice room, staring at the door next to hers. Byulyi had made a big fuss after she decided that Yongsun wasn’t a stuck up bitch after all, all those years ago when they first met, about how they needed practice rooms next to each other. RBW had been much smaller then, and Do Hoon hadn’t put up any fight really about giving the rapper what she wanted. It was to facilitate bonding, was her excuse, and Yongsun could only remember being faintly amused over the whole thing. 

Yongsun hadn’t been in it since Byulyi’s disappearance. She wasn’t sure anyone really had, though she knew the cleaners went in periodically. Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob, stopping short when she caught herself. It seemed a bit too dramatic for her to be doing this on Byulyi’s birthday, of all times. But Do Hoon’s words kept ringing in her head, about her not moving on. And Yongsun couldn’t help herself - she missed the other woman so much then, she felt nauseous. 

The door was open before she had made a conscious decision. Yongsun sucked in a deep breath. 

If she had thought clearing out Byulyi’s apartment was bad, this was infinitely worse. She hadn’t realised just how much time Byulyi hadn’t spent in her own apartment, because this room? This room was definitely a place Byulyi had spent a lot of time in. 

It was apparent in the notes scattered everywhere, the photos stuck to the wall. Byulyi was a relatively neat person, but she tended to let clutter build up when she was in the middle of working on something. And from the looks of it, she had been working on a new song for Mamamoo’s first album. Yongsun could see the scattered foolscap paper on the table, the rejects scrunched up in the bin next to it. Yongsun drifted towards them, her fingers brushing against the paper. Reading the lyrics. 

She didn’t realise she was crying until the sobs wracked her body. Wrapping her arms around herself, she was surprised that it was happening at all. Some distant part of her knew this was natural, that this was the expected emotional response to seeing a space that had been so wholly Byulyi’s - but the part of her that was living the moment, that was heaving for air and bunching her tee shirt in her hands couldn’t understand why she was crying so hard over the doodle of Yongsun and Byulyi that the other woman had drawn in the margins of the notes. 

“Stupid Byulyi,” Yongsun found herself saying, looking at the doodle closer. Byulyi had drawn Yongsun running away from Byulyi’s hug, a speech bubble drifting out of the leader’s mouth with the words “Isanghae!” in big, blocky letters. Wheein and Hyejin were just deadpanning in the background, two floating heads that seemed unimpressed and unmoved by their leader’s plight. “You’re such an asshole.”

Yongsun wasn’t sure how long she sat there - she was just staring at things in the room. From the doodle to the photo of Byulyi and the rest of them at a bar hanging right above her desk. Yongsun found herself in the middle of reading the lyrics Byulyi had written when she was aware she was being watched. 

Hyejin was stood in the doorway, her arms crossed as she stared at Yongsun. The leader hadn’t known that the maknae was in the building today. Hyejin had been so busy with her show lately that it had been awhile since she last saw her. 

“Hey.” Yongsun wiped at her tears, setting the papers aside when Hyejin made no move to enter. “What are you doing here?”    
“I came to drop something off.” Hyejin wasn’t moving - just watching. “What are you doing?” 

“I -” Yongsun struggled with some excuse, before she remembered that this was Hyejin. “I missed her. Today. More than usual.” Yongsun cleared her throat before continuing. “I haven’t been here since….” Hyejin nodded, and they fell into silence once more.

“Unnie, you don’t have any plans this evening, right?” It was a rhetorical question, really. “Come to my place.” Yongsun hesitated. Hyejin just nodded. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. Meet you at the entrance.” And then she was gone. 

(And maybe it wasn’t quite all right.)

(It definitely wasn’t - because they drank all night, and Wheein barely talked to her, and Yongsun didn’t feel as comfortable in Hyejin’s apartment as she used to, and Byulyi was still gone -)

(But they told stories about Byulyi all night -)

(and it made Yongsun miss her less)

(because she wasn’t alone in this)

(and she never had been.)

(because at the end of the night, Yongsun tried to get up to leave for her own place, and Hyejin had snorted and pulled out her extra pillow and blankets and made a space for her by the tv)

(and Wheein didn’t make a comment, but she didn’t tell Yongsun to leave either, and she actually left a bottle of water by the leader’s side for when she would wake up)

(because when she actually did leave, Wheein had said goodbye and told her to get home safe and text them all when she did)

(and that had made something in Yongsun’s chest shift and she nearly burst into tears on the spot.)

When it was all said and done, Yongsun did pull out the card Hyejin had given her - the one with her therapist’s number on it. And so it was that on the 23rd of December - the day after Byulyi’s birthday - Yongsun felt like she could finally call for help. 

(Byulyi had asked her to _ keep them safe _ .)

(But now Yongsun had to admit that she was a part of _ them _ too.)

(She always had been.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realise it's been a year since I last updated this. 
> 
> It's odd; I started writing this because while I was growing up, I lost a lot of extended family members and I never really processed how much that shaped who I am as an individual. But now that I've lost my father, and my grandpa too - I think I'm understanding grief and healing in a very different way. 
> 
> I think at the heart of growing up, there's a lot of loss. Not necessarily of people or of things, but also the expectations of how things are meant to go. I grew up reading a lot of writing that obviously captures emotions, thoughts, reactions - but none of that could have prepared me for actually living through those things. I've read a lot of fics about loss and grieving - but none of them could really capture how gritty and messy that whole process actually is. Everything gets affected - from daily routines, to relationships with people I've known all my life and people I have yet to know. It's... messy. And time-consuming. And usually it just feels very two steps forward, one step back. 
> 
> I don't really know where I'm going with this rambling. But I guess what I mean to say is this story has taken on a very different meaning for me now. I've finally finished the outline for the entire story now, and I hope some of you are still sticking around for it. There's still a long way to go, but hopefully when it's over - it means something to someone.


	9. 2.2 - the tiny deaths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: trigger warning - sexual abuse. I think it's mild, but of course any form of abuse is terrifying (and I'm not a judge of any of that), so heads up: that occurs towards the end of the second chunk. 
> 
> So I'm just gonna be working to get it all out, and edit most of the entire fic later. I think the longer I keep this story with me, the more likely I won't finish it. 
> 
> I hope you guys are still enjoying it - I've been reading all your comments, and I'm glad there are still people reading this fic!
> 
> Thank you to all of you :)

**2.2**

Ining had sort of burnt all her bridges when she left the police force a few years back. The corruption, the power plays - Ining had lost her taste for all of that after her mother got sick. There really was no point to all that when she could have made her career doing literally  _ anything _ else. 

(Much more moral route, her mother would say.)

(Die poor, but with your honour intact.)

Still, Ining had to admit she missed the vast resources the police force had at their fingertips. Those lazy bastards probably had no idea how easy they had it. 

“Well, that’s this town a dead end,” Ining muttered to herself as she pored over her notes in her rented hostel room. It was a small place, quite a bit aways from the actual town center, but it had served as her base of operations just fine. She would miss this place when she left tomorrow. Seoul was her next stop, to recoup and pick up a few other jobs that would pay for the next stretch of her investigations. 

It had been rinse, repeat of that pattern for the past six months: head to a town on the train line Byulyi had gotten on, search for a few weeks, and then recoup in Seoul to try again. Thanks to her one friend 

(the only one who still talked to her anymore, that is)

in the police force, Ining had managed to track down the taxi driver who had taken the two girls she had seen that day so long ago, and gotten him to reveal where he had taken them to. He hadn’t been willing to speak until they revealed that it was linked to Moon Byulyi’s case - the older man had given them the information in the hopes that he wouldn’t be implicated as an aide to kidnapping. Because that was what Ining was sure had happened. 

She’d staked out the building for days after that, wanting to catch the girl who had hustled Moon Byulyi into the taxi. After five days Ining had to give up, and resorted to knocking on each door in the building one by one. Most of them had been reluctant to talk, wary of detectives and police force in general. It wasn’t the best neighbourhood, really. Most of them were students from the nearby university, and Ining wouldn’t have imagined any of them being involved in something so sinister if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. As it was, one student stood out. 

She’d been young, probably in her early twenties. She’d opened the door with a belligerent expression on her face, completely unimpressed to see Ining at her door. She’d replied curtly that she wouldn’t answer any questions after Ining introduced herself. “You don’t have a warrant,” she had stated simply, and made to shut the door on her. Ining had stopped it with a foot, wincing at the sharp pain. 

“Wait, hold on. I’m investigating the disappearance of Moon Byulyi.” Now, Ining made her trade in being observant. Noticing things like flickers in expressions, the way people shifted in response to questions or answers. Everything about this girl set her senses pinging when she immediately tensed, looking up and down the corridor discreetly for prying eyes and ears. 

“What about her?” The sneer would have set anyone else off, but Ining knew there was something underneath it. She could just feel it. She couldn’t quite remember the face of the girl with Moon Byulyi - she just hadn’t been paying enough attention at the time, and she had been quite far away for intimate details - but this girl fit the build, at least. “Didn’t she drown in the river or something?”

“Yeah, but we have reason to believe she actually did survive the fall.” Ining purposely didn’t give away her true theory. “So we’re asking around for anyone who might have seen anything. May I come in?”

“No.” The girl was adamant about that. “I don’t make it a habit to invite strangers in.”

Ining let that hang for a moment. “Please. She might still be alive. I’d just like to ask some questions.” 

“Like I said,” the other girl’s voice held a hint of steel to it. “I don’t have to answer any of your questions.” And this time, when the girl closed her door, Ining let it happen. Interesting. 

A quick search in house directories and some calls to the residence department at the university revealed that the girl’s name was Kim Minyoung. 26. Studying medicine, specializing in neurology. She was on track to graduate with top honours. Until she started missing a lot of school suddenly. Around the time Moon Byulyi went missing. 

Coincidence? Ining didn’t believe in those. 

Still, the girl had a point. Ining didn’t have a warrant or any actual authority. So she didn’t really want to spend her time chasing down this lead when she could be chasing a more reliable one with the taxi driver instead. It did cross her mind to do some breaking and entering, but she knew that wouldn’t really hold up in court when it came down to it, in the off-chance that Byulyi wasn’t actually there. And if Minyoung really was the captor, then any sign that Ining was onto her could end up really badly for Byulyi. 

Her friend at the police force had also managed to secure the surveillance footage from the train station, which Ining had pored over to spot the idol. When she finally found her, boarding a train, she had immediately packed her things and booked the next train out on that same route. Ining had spent the next six months combing each stop on foot, looking for the missing woman. 

In truth, Ining should have handed this case over to the police a long time ago. Hell, she should have handed it over the minute she realised that Byulyi was probably  _ kidnapped _ .

But her gut told her that the police would have let this fall through the cracks, the same way they let most things. It would have looked amazing on their track record to have found such a big name figure, but each time she thought about calling her friend and spilling everything to them - she recalled Jung Taemin’s face and how disappointed he was that his lead to the police had done nothing. 

So Ining had stuck with it, knowing that with each day that passed, the chances of finding Moon Byulyi at all were slim to none. But she had to assuage her own conscience at this point. 

Six months on, and she had only two more towns to canvas. If she didn’t find Moon Byulyi in either of these places, she would put this case to rest. Hand over all she knew, and pass it to the police for them to take over. 

But until then, Ining would keep poring over her notes, keep searching. Because she had to know. 

And if Moon Byulyi was still alive, then Ining had to bring her home. 

\- - - - - - 

Yuna admired Ahjumma. For her age, she was still strong - easier to tire, but no less strong. Every day, from dawn to dusk, the woman seemed to be moving. If it wasn’t combing the flats for catch to sell at the market, then it was barking orders at her workers on the fields, appraising the value and quality of the harvest. When spring came around, Yuna had been put to work there as well, tilling and seeding the fields in preparation for the summer. She had taken the task with gusto - anything that kept her busy, distracted from her own thoughts. 

Those were the worst moments of her new life - wondering about before. Ahjumma had said it herself - the past was something to carry behind you, but it wasn’t such a bad thing that Yuna didn’t have much of one. It just meant that she had less to worry about coming back to bite her. 

Ahjumma was full of little wise things like that. Good pieces of advice wrapped up in a sharp tongue and a sharper mind to match. They often spent their evenings together over card games and discussing things like life and death. They were convenient topics, Yuna supposed, seeing as she’d nearly died once, apparently. 

“Ahjumma,” Yuna had asked once, while pouring tea for the older woman. Ahjumma had given a mindless hum as she looked over her hand, no doubt calculating her next move. “Are you afraid of dying?”

A beat passed, before Ahjumma put down her cards and stared at Byulyi for a long moment. “I never really thought of it before. Why?”

“Really?” Yuna found that hard to believe. The woman had to be pushing eighty, at the very least. “Never?”

“Never dwelled on it.” Ahjumma chewed on her bottom lip as her gaze went distant. “I guess the longest I’ve ever thought about it was when my husband died, when I was in my forties. But then again, he had died in his sleep, and I suppose that’s not such a bad way to go.” 

“But are you afraid of it? Of dying?” 

“I suppose that is the human thing to do, yes.” Ahjumma had picked up her cards again, her fingers hovering over one, then the other. “But I’ve always told myself it’s going to come for me eventually. Hell, after meeting you, I’m wondering if it’s not the worst thing. What with reincarnation and all that.” 

Yuna had to laugh at that. “But I’m not reincarnated. I never actually died.”

“You probably did.” Ahjumma threw down a card, and gestured to Yuna to continue. “You fell into a river, you probably drowned a little. Died. Long enough for you to forget everything.” Her eyes were probing. “Were  _ you _ afraid?”

“I… I don’t know.” Yuna blinked. “I suppose I was.” 

“Well, there’s your answer then.” Ahjumma made a considering noise. “So I guess you still don’t remember anything?”

Sometimes

(on certain nights)

Yuna would wake up gasping and coughing, trying to catch her breath and feeling terrified when she couldn’t. The first time it happened, Ahjumma had come in and patted her back to sleep, not saying anything. Her presence had grounded Yuna then, a constant in this new life of hers. 

But Yuna only really had her. There wasn’t anything else she could really remember. Her dreams were chaotic, but slipped through her fingers like smoke when she awoke. The barest hints of recollection, like the vaguest shapes, and nothing else. Lala had theorized that it could have been her brain reliving fake memories based on what little information she did know about her previous life. 

Which depressed Yuna more than she let on. 

“No,” Yuna eventually had to admit. “I don’t remember anything.” 

“Pity.” Ahjumma hadn’t said anything else. “But I envy you sometimes, child.” Her voice had that distant quality again, and Yuna knew she was reliving a memory of her own. “Not everyone has a second chance at life.”

It was a loaded comment, and Yuna had let it lie. 

And she supposed Ahjumma had a point. Sometimes Yuna imagined she was a really bad person before, a terrible person who hurt a lot of people - and this new life was a form of punishment and penance for her.  

And if that was the case then - did Yuna really want to know who she was before? 

“I’m glad you’re moving on,” Lala had said when Yuna raised those thoughts to her. It had been the start of spring, and Yuna could guess that it’d been maybe four? Five? months since she’d woken up in Lala’s room. Lala came to visit often, especially on the weekends. “That’s a good sign.”

“I suppose.” Yuna’s hair had grown out as well, into a shaggy bob that she tended to tie up into a small ponytail. She fingered it now, mindless as she stared out at the setting sun over the fields. They were sat on the porch outside of Ahjumma’s home, out of sight of the older woman. “I figure that if no one has searched for me after all this time, then.” She sighed. “Ah, I don’t really want to dwell on it anymore.”

Lala wrapped an arm around Yuna’s waist and squeezed tight. Yuna took comfort from the touch, letting her head drop against her friend’s. She shivered when she felt the touch of soft lips on her neck. 

“Lala…”

“Shh…” Lala’s other hand came up to rest under Yuna’s shirt, rubbing against the skin of her stomach. “It’s just us, now.” She reached up to capture Yuna’s lips in a deep kiss.

The kissing part was new. Lala hadn’t been subtle about her attraction to Yuna, and Yuna had sort of... let it happen. She didn’t have any problems with it per se, even though she didn’t really think of Lala in that way. 

But she couldn’t deny that it was nice to feel  _ wanted _ like that. To feel the brush of lips against hers, to tangle her fingers in someone else’s hair. Lala had been patient and good at teaching her how to do those things, and they often squirrelled away like this on her visits now, just so they could do this. 

Yuna couldn’t resist a sigh when she felt Lala’s thumb graze the underside of her breasts through her bra, tickling where the rest of her fingers rested against her side. Knowingly, Lala ran her nails down the soft skin, to press against Yuna with firmness. 

Yuna jumped. They had never gone this far before, and she couldn’t deny the discomfort she felt stirring in her belly. Gently, she pushed Lala away, keeping her gaze down as she stammered to explain. 

“I’m sorry, I just - we’ve never - and I’m not -” Yuna heard a huff, and then Lala’s hand was back on her thigh, high enough that Yuna stiffened. 

“It’s alright. But I wish you wouldn’t be so scared.” Lala tilted Yuna’s chin back to look at her, her eyes boring into Yuna’s. “I’m not going to hurt you.” 

Except Yuna was afraid of just that. 

(Once, Yuna wasn’t in the mood at all, and Lala had grabbed her strongly, kissed her anyway, leaving Yuna lightheaded when they parted.) 

(Yuna wanted to say something, but there was something that sparked in Lala’s eyes that kept her quiet.)

(She felt the phantom touch of where Lala had touched her for days after, the air almost seeming to hum around where the stitches were healed in her hair.)

“Okay?” Lala asked, her thumb rubbing circles into Yuna’s thigh. Yuna nodded. Lala’s smile made her believe that she’d bought it, and this time, when Lala leaned in again to continue kissing, Yuna let her. 

(The sharp nip Lala gave her split Yuna’s bottom lip, but Lala had just laughed and swiped her tongue over it lovingly.)

(And Lala never took her hand off Yuna’s thigh, but she didn’t move it any higher either.)

Yes, Yuna would think later that night, lying on her bed in the dark. Maybe this second life was her chance at penance. For whatever it was she’d done before. Because good people didn’t have to suffer this way, did they? 

(Besides the terror of the drowning, the dreams brought with them an aching loneliness.)

(Yuna tried not to dwell on that either.)

\- - - - - - 

Lala huffed as she shut the door to her apartment behind her. She missed Byulyi already, and she’d just left Ahjumma’s place three hours ago. 

It annoyed her that they had to be apart like this now. Lala couldn’t help but long for the early days after Byulyi’s appearance in her life, when they would spend almost every moment together. It was nice to have someone to come home to, to shop for two, to have to wait to use the shower. Lala had lived on her own for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to live with someone else. 

Still. It was worth it, Lala kept reminding herself. Sending Yuna away had successfully kept her in the dark about her past long enough for her to accept it, she recalled giddily. Now Lala could focus on just being with her. Making her happy. 

And she’d sent her away not a moment too soon. Lala’s heart still raced when she thought about the visit she’d gotten from that private detective. So soon after she’d hidden Yuna away forever; Lala had thought everyone had given up on searching for the woman already. 

How had Ining even found them? Lala cursed herself for not asking more questions while she had the chance, but now she had no way to find out what loose end she hadn’t covered. The decision to play the ‘wary of police’ character had successfully deterred the woman enough that Lala hadn’t seen her again, which was good. But it had also stopped her from being able to reach out again under a different guise to figure out what was going on. 

“Stupid,” she muttered to herself as she flopped onto the couch in her living room. She was tired already, her fingers aching to touch Byulyi again. 

It had been a stupid crush at first, something that every fan went through when they first started getting into a group. But Lala had truly begun to fall for Byulyi after she started watching more and more of Mamamoo’s things - their concerts, their performances, their interviews and television appearances. 

She remembered the first time she met Byulyi fondly. It wasn’t that fateful night by the river, no. Mamamoo had come to visit her university during their festival to perform, and Lala had been so excited she couldn’t sleep for weeks before. She still remembered it fondly - the feel of different bodies cheering and singing along pressed up against her, the way it felt to look up onstage and see her idol in the flesh. Byulyi had always caught her eyes with her beauty and charm, her easy-going nature hidden under fierce passion as she rapped powerfully. Lala knew she’d fallen in love with her for real then. Seeing Byulyi in her element - she took Lala’s breath away. 

Later, on her way back, Lala had stood by the barriers in the school parking lot to catch a glimpse of Byulyi leaving. Mamamoo had stopped to greet the fans, shaking a few lucky hands, accepting a few gifts. Lala distinctly remembered the feel of Byulyi’s hand in hers, fleeting but warm as she high fived her. The idol had stopped to chat with the person next to Lala, but Lala felt grateful that she could at least hear Byulyi’s actual voice this close, unfiltered without a mic. Byulyi had made a joke - and everyone laughed, including Lala. 

And then Byulyi had moved on without a backward glance, Solar calling her over to meet another fan. Lala hadn’t been able to curb the flare of anger in her belly when she saw Solar shy away from Byulyi’s attempt to wrap their arms together - the other woman had no idea how lucky she was to receive Byulyi’s affection like that on a daily basis. 

Lala couldn’t deny it - she was jealous of all the other members of Mamamoo. But she hated Solar most of all. 

Thinking about Solar always made her blood boil. Lala released a deep breath to calm down. What was the point of worrying about her? Lala had won, in the end. It didn’t matter that Byulyi and Solar used to be close, that Byulyi had her picture in her wallet - 

Before she knew it, Lala had pulled out the plastic bag of Byulyi’s belongings from where she had it stuffed in the compartment under the couch. Digging past the thick padded coat which had kept Byulyi alive after her fall, Lala found the wallet she’d pulled out once in awhile to look at. Everything paper in it had gotten waterlogged, like her money and some receipts she’d kept in there. But some had managed to survive - like the photos. There had been three of them in there, slid into various little card compartments. The first was one of her family - Lala had marveled at how similar her and her sister looked - the second was her and the rest of Mamamoo together, from their trainee days; the last was one of Byulyi and Solar together, pressed close with their smiles wide. Lala had been tempted to throw this one away a few times. But each time she decided to keep it, because Byulyi looked so happy in it, she couldn’t bring herself to. 

Sighing, Lala rubbed her finger over the picture of Byulyi absentmindedly as she turned the television on. It was showing the news at the moment, and Lala let it play as she went to grab herself a drink of water. She nearly dropped the glass when she heard the news anchor report on the entertainment news. 

“What the fuck?” Lala rushed back to the living room as she turned the volume up higher. 

“... first appearance as a group after the tragic loss of their fourth member, Moon Byulyi, in late September last year. According to a statement released by their company, RBW, the addition of this new member is not an act of replacing Moon in any way - in fact, it was almost like a re-debut for the group, who have mostly been producing work as independent artists since their rapper’s disappearance.” Onscreen, the four members of Mamamoo posed for the cameras at a Music Bank red carpet. 

“Sources inform us that the rest of the group is happy with the new addition of member J-Yoon, and is eager to share this new version of themselves with the world.” The video cut to a shot of the four members standing around a microphone, being interviewed. 

“We still feel the… loss of Byulyi keenly,” Solar was saying, her face somber. “But Byulyi wouldn’t have wanted us to stop producing music. And Mamamoo debuted as a four-member group originally because each member played a very important role. So J-Yoon’s addition to the team will hopefully allow us to continue to serve good music to our fans.” 

Lala stopped listening after that, her entire body shaking. They’d replaced Byulyi? They were still performing? Without her?

“What the fuck,” Lala muttered, twisting her hands in her hair. “How could they do this?” All their talk after the fall about how much Byulyi meant to them. It was all just talk, wasn’t it? Lala couldn’t resist the laugh that tore itself out her throat. “Fucking assholes. Not even a year, and they...” 

Byulyi meant nothing to them, clearly. Lala had made the right decision when she didn’t let Byulyi go back to them. She was better than them. She didn’t need them. She was happier now anyway. With Lala and Ahjumma and far, far away from the fakeness of these people, this industry. 

Lala’s eyes drifted to the plastic bag of Byulyi’s few belongings. She couldn’t just let them get away with this, could she? She needed to let them know she didn’t agree with this, that they were making a mistake and that they deserved to have Byulyi taken from them. 

“Don’t worry Byulyi,” Lala said to herself as she picked up the photo of Byulyi smiling. “I’ll make sure they don’t forget you.” 

Lala was the only person Byulyi could depend on over here now, anyway. And unlike these bitches, Lala wouldn’t betray Byulyi. Ever. 

She went to sleep with the picture of Byulyi in her hand, the half with Solar torn off and thrown away. They would suffer, even a little, for ever thinking they could replace her lover. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For context: the last part with Lala actually occurs almost seven months after Byulyi's disappearance. I've been working with the headcanon that Lala's been lying to Byulyi since the get go about how long she's been asleep/ awake since the accident (Byulyi actually went into a little coma of sorts, because of the intense trauma her body sustained from the fall - namely the swelling in her brain that caused her amnesia). So Byulyi's own understanding of how much time has passed is a little warped. 
> 
> We're gonna be jumping a lot in terms of timeline over the next two chapters, I think. So let me know if it gets too confusing, and I'll make sure to add a timeline line in the A/Ns of the next chapter.


	10. 2.3 - the tiny deaths (part two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: trigger warning for mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts. nothing too graphic, once again, but just be wary around the second chunk because Yongsun is working through her grief.
> 
> I included a summary of what it is in the author's notes at the end if anyone wants to skip that part.

**2.3**

 

It was inevitable, really. Yongsun should have seen it coming. Mamamoo had debuted with four people, and every member played an important part. It made sense for this to happen, and yet - 

“No.” 

“Yongsun -”

“You can’t expect us to be okay with this.” Yongsun shot out of her seat, pacing the small studio room floor. “It’s been barely six months, you can’t -”

“It’s been six months.” Do Hoon rubbed his hand over his neck wearily. It was clear that he was expecting this. His eyes kept darting between the infuriated Yongsun and the still stunned Wheein and Hyejin. “And we all know that’s a lifetime in the entertainment industry.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel like a lifetime for us,” Wheein spoke up, her surprise bleeding into anger, just like Yongsun. “How could you even think about that?”

“We’ve all had to, Wheein-ah.” Do Hoon seemed to curl even deeper into himself. “Look, I miss her too. Every day. But we can’t just keep waiting around like this. We can’t.”

“Who are we really making music for, Do Hoon-nim? Because I’m sure the fans will agree it’s still too early to think about these things.” Hyejin’s piercing gaze would have been deadly to anyone else; as it was, Do Hoon merely matched it with one of his own.

“Actually, they’re wondering if this means Mamamoo will disband. We’re losing fans, girls. And that means we’re losing money.” He sighed, long and low. “Not to make it about that, but we are in an industry. And we need to make sure we keep producing in order to stay relevant.” 

“But adding a new member? How does that solve anything?” Yongsun couldn’t imagine it. Replacing Byulyi with someone else? That would mean they would all have to learn how to sing with her, dance with her, choreograph with her - no. Yongsun simply couldn’t imagine it.

(She was just starting to understand how to function without a certain someone right next to her.)

“Will you at least consider it? I’m not saying you have a choice in the matter -” He truly looked pained as he said this, resolutely not looking at any of them. “But it would be nice if you could at least be civil to this new member. She’s an innocent to all of this.” 

In the end, it was Hyejin who dared to ask the question. “Who is it?” Do Hoon gave her a long look. “Come on, it’s obvious you’ve already picked her out. Who is it? Do we know her?”

Yongsun gritted her teeth, but said nothing. “Her name is Jiyoon. Lee Jiyoon.” The members exchanged glances with each other - the name was unfamiliar to them. “She’s been training with us for a year now. We picked her up on the last audition cycle.” 

“And you think she’s  _ already _ ready to debut?” 

“She’s been on the reality show route. Done a few singing competitions, but never got picked up by any of the Big Three. She’ll need a bit more polishing, but - she has a lot of potential and her own fanbase.” Do Hoon shrugged as if that settled it. “Honestly, it won’t take much.” 

“I don’t like this.” Wheein echoed Yongsun’s thoughts exactly, crossing her arms. “You know being in a group takes more than just skills -”

“I don’t need you to lecture me on how to create a good girl group, Jung Wheein.” Everyone flinched. Do Hoon had been much sterner with them since Byulyi’s disappearance, but that was to be expected. Byulyi had meant as much to him as she had to everyone else. 

But if anyone had been expecting instant contrition and a change of heart, they didn’t get it. Instead, Do Hoon rubbed the back of his neck once more as he stood. “I want everyone to understand that this will be better for Mamamoo in the long run. We’re all still hurting - trust me, I know this too -” And Yongsun bit her tongue this time because she could really see it this time, in his eyes. This was hard for him. “But Byulyi wouldn’t want us to stop doing what we do best. I just hope, in time, you can see that too.” 

And without giving anyone else time to say anything, Do Hoon swept out the door. 

The air was still in the room behind him for a moment. The three of them were still processing their emotions, and Yongsun knew she personally was battling her own thoughts. She didn’t know how to feel. Anger? Sadness? Betrayal? 

All of those things made sense, but Yongsun just couldn’t pin it down. Her therapist had told her she was improving at a good rate with that so far, but Yongsun knew that this - identifying her emotions so she could deal with them - would take a lot more time. She’d spent so long after Byulyi’s fall feeling numb - hiding from the strength of her own emotions - that she’d had to relearn those things again. It was frustrating, to say the least, that she struggled to do something as simple as that. 

“This is bullshit.” Hyejin, as always, was the first to voice their thoughts. “They can’t expect us to be okay with this.” 

“He said it himself: it’s not like we have a choice.” Yongsun wrapped her arms around herself, staring at their reflections in the mirrors. They looked truly dejected, each of them slumped in their seats. “She’s joining us whether we like it or not.” 

“Well, I guess we’re all in agreement about that, at least. We  _ don’t _ like it.” Yongsun managed a wan smile at Hyejin’s wit. “I’m going to go talk to him.”

“Don’t.” Wheein’s quiet voice stopped her best friend. Yongsun’s gaze cut to the lead vocalist, whose face was burrowed into her knees. “Don’t bother.” 

“Wheein?” The woman looked up at Yongsun, her eyes settling for only a second before darting to Hyejin. 

“Maybe he was right. Maybe this is… could be a good thing.” The words were hard to get out, and hard to listen to. “We’ve all been doing our own things these past six months. But he’s right - this isn’t really what we signed up to do, is it?” They all kept silent as Wheein addressed the both of them at the same time for the first time in months. “And honestly… I feel really selfish, but I miss us. Performing as a group.” She tried for a smile. “It’s weird to be by myself onstage.” 

Out of the three of them, Wheein was the last person Yongsun expected to hear this from. Not just because she always seemed the most resistant to bring up the topic of Byulyi’s disappearance, but because out of the three of them? Wheein was doing the best as a solo artist. If Wheein wanted to give up Mamamoo forever, she could do it. 

(And none of them would have blamed her.)

But it was obvious that Wheein didn’t want that. 

“Wheein’s right.” Yongsun piped up. She could see that it had taken Wheein a lot to say those things, and Yongsun didn’t want her to think that it had gone unheard. “That was always Byulyi’s favourite part.” Yongsun didn’t stumble over Byulyi’s name anymore in front of them. “Us, being together.”

Hyejin raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’re even considering this, unnie.” There was no judgement in her tone. Yongsun took a deep breath, letting her arms fall. 

“I don’t really know how I feel about this yet. But Do Hoon-nim was right. If this thing is going to happen with or without our blessing, then it wouldn’t be fair to Jiyoon-nim if we held it against her.” Yongsun thought back to the early days of joining the group, how nervous she had been that they wouldn’t like her, how annoyed she’d been at Byulyi for being rude to her. A small smile found its way to her lips at the memory. “And I know exactly how scary it can be to just join a group that’s already been formed. Can you imagine being her and coming to join us under these kind of circumstances?” 

“Well yeah, unnie, but we if we can change Do Hoon-nim’s mind about it before she joins, then -”

“We won’t change his mind, Hyejin-ie,” Yongsun admonished her gently. “He made that very clear. This has probably been in the works much longer than we think. We didn’t get a choice then, and we won’t get a choice now.” Yongsun shrugged. “And honestly, I think Byulyi would be happy with this idea.”

“Well, she’s an idiot then.” Hyejin huffed. And Yongsun couldn’t help it; she laughed. It was a deep laugh that came from somewhere deep within, because she hadn’t heard anyone say anything like that about Byulyi besides Seulgi in such a long time. Talked about Byulyi so familiarly. So knowingly. 

(Without fear, or shame, or sadness.)

A beat later, Wheein - then Hyejin - joined in, their giggles loud and unrestrained. The three of them stayed like that for a while, enjoying the moment. Gods, Yongsun couldn’t remember the last time they’d done that. Just laughed. It felt like forever. 

“Ah.” Hyejin wiped at her eyes. “That felt good.” 

“Yeah.” Wheein stretched out to lie on the floor. “I haven’t laughed like that in so long. I’ve missed it.” 

Yongsun watched the two as Hyejin teased the lead vocalist about living a boring life. It felt so familiar, so much like before, that Yongsun didn’t want to leave this moment. It felt like, at any moment, Byulyi would come in and ask what she’d missed. Her eyes drifted to the door, a part of her wishing. But she knew it wouldn’t happen. 

Her therapist had told her to acknowledge these moments of longing, but to not get caught up in it. Byulyi was gone - if not dead, then at least unable to join them again. And that was something that Yongsun had to accept. 

It was easier now, she realised, to think of Byulyi as having died at the river. It was better, some sort of closure that she could give herself as to Byulyi’s fate. It had felt like a betrayal, before. Like if she hung on long enough, Byulyi would come back. But that had been wishful thinking, and not healthy for her or anyone else. Yongsun tried not to linger on memories of her anymore, even though a small voice inside her told her she was being selfish. That she was giving up on this person who had never given up on her. Right till the end.

Yongsun recognised that voice now. After many months of work with her therapist, Yongsun knew that it was a part of her that would never leave, unfortunately. Byulyi’s disappearance had changed her so irrevocably that it was almost a relief to hear that it was alright to let her go. That she wasn’t doing a disservice to Byulyi, or her memory. That it was expected almost. Her therapist had challenged her by asking if the same had happened to her, and she’d been the one to die on that bridge that night - would Yongsun have wanted Byulyi to linger over her?

And the easy answer would have been no. That she would expected her to be sad, of course. To miss her. But not to cling onto her for so long. To let her go. It was cliche but it was true. Yongsun wouldn’t have wanted Byulyi to stop living just for her. 

So Byulyi had died, in her mind. On that bridge that night. Yongsun’s only regret was how sudden it had been. Because she would have very much liked to have told her how much Byulyi meant to her. 

How much Yongsun loved her.

(And it hadn’t been so much of a strong, passionate love.)

(But a certainty that Yongsun knew.)

(Like how she knew she loved her elder sister, and how she knew she loved Wheein and Hyejin and Do Hoon and -)

(Yongsun just wished she had said it more, when she had the chance.)

\- - - - - - -

Yongsun hadn’t seen much of Jeongeun-unnie since the incident. She’d requested to be moved to a different role about a month after, and inwardly, Yongsun had been glad to see her go.

Even now, Yongsun struggled to define what their relationship to each other was. When they did pass each other in the halls, Yongsun didn’t know how to react - 

(Often, it was a simple nod and then they continued on their way.)

(Once, it had been a rushed ‘good work’ when they had to film a music video.)

But Yongsun knew something essential had shifted and changed between them.

(She couldn’t stop seeing her on that bridge with Byulyi.)

(Couldn’t stop feeling the way she’d made the car stop when Byulyi had asked.)

Her therapist had asked her to consider if she did blame the other woman for Byulyi’s accident. Yongsun had scoffed and said something along the lines of no, of course not; it had been the boy on the bridge who had grabbed her - it had been  _ his _ fault.

But her therapist had given her a good, long look over her glasses then. Silent for long enough that Yongsun grew agitated and snapped at her.

(The woman really did deserve more than Yongsun was paying her for some sessions.)

“Why are you looking at me like that? Stop it.”

“Looking at you like what?”

“Don’t play games with me,” Yongsun growled, folding her arms across her chest. “You know how you’re looking at me. Like... like you don’t believe me or something.”

“It depends on whether you’re telling the truth.” She raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re saying one thing, but I’m hearing a different thing entirely.”

Yongsun gritted her teeth, truly annoyed for the first time in a long time. “And what’s that?”

“Is it possible,” her therapist begins carefully, her gaze never straying from Yongsun. “That you do blame Jeongeun for Byulyi’s death?”

Yongsun stuttered. “I don’t - I mean - I just said that I didn’t.” Her therapist just hummed, which was her way of indicating to Yongsun to think upon it further. The minutes ticked by, Yongsun worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. Until she felt like she had to say  _ something _ , at least. 

“I don’t think I do. Blame her, at least. But I can’t help but feel -” Anger? Betrayal? “She stopped, you know? She didn’t have to. She could have - should have kept going.” Yongsun couldn’t look at the other woman. “People kill themselves all the time on that bridge - why was this boy any different?” Her words were harsh and terrible, and she knew - god, she knew - that they made her a horrible person. That if anyone but this woman heard them, they would think her sick, disgusting. That she - maybe - should have been the one falling off the bridge, not Byulyi. 

She knew every life was precious. Would have been the first to offer a hand to someone in help. But in practice, only the lives that had touched yours mattered more. They weren’t abstract when they were your loved ones - and Yongsun was beginning to understand, with absolute clarity, that if it meant that boy had to die for Byulyi to live, Yongsun would have pushed him off the bridge herself.

And wasn’t that a heartless, mean thought.

(Yongsun sometimes couldn’t look at herself in the mirror.)

(Those thoughts kept her up at night.)

(She sometimes woke up clutching the sheets, imagining the feel of the steel of the bridge.)

Her therapist kept silent. “And I do feel like such a bad person; I wanted him to die, he could have died in peace - why did he have to take her with him? Why did he have to do that for?” Yongsun couldn’t help but see Byulyi’s hands reaching out, the boy’s frightened face and the car rushing in front of them, blocking Yongsun’s last glimpse of her love. “And Byulyi? Why did Byulyi have to get out of the car? Stupid, stupid, I hate her -”

Yongsun surprised herself with that one, stopping short as she felt tears streaming down her face. Her breath was coming in short spurts - Yongsun couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t she breathe?

“Oh my god.” Yongsun sniffled, clutching her chest. “I’m mad at Byulyi too, aren’t I?” Her therapist just watched her, her face sympathetic. “Why am I mad at her?”

“It’s normal,” she began, her voice soft. “To feel that way.” She smiled kindly. “It’s a hard truth to accept, but it’s your truth too. Rationally, we can say we understand that it was no one’s fault, but actually blame the person themselves. The way you lost Byulyi was terrible.” Yongsun’s fist tightened on her shirt even more. “But it’s not uncommon to blame your loved one. It’s okay. In fact, it’s part of the healing process.”

Yongsun couldn’t help but chuckle weakly, her breaths still in a staccato. “Grieving sucks.” Her therapist laughed along, even though it wasn’t such a good joke. 

(In fact, it was barely a joke at all.)

“You’ve come a long way, Yongsun. Don’t let this revelation hold you back.” She pushed the box of tissues closer to Yongsun. “We tend to judge ourselves more harshly than we would other people. But we are allowed to feel whatever it is that we feel.” Yongsun dabbed at her eyes, her breathing calming with each word her therapist spoke. “Now the challenge is bridging the gap between what you feel and what you know to be true - that it wasn’t really anyone’s fault it happened.” Her therapist’s voice grew sad. “There is too much pain this world to go around for you to continue to hold on to yours.”

Yongsun sighed as she processed it. It was hard to accept - that all this anger, this sadness could have been avoided if only Byulyi hadn’t gotten out of the car. If only Jeongeun-unnie hadn’t listened. If only the boy hadn’t been there that night.

(If only, if only, if only)

“And our time is up.” Her therapist pulls out her notebook. “Would you like to see each other again this same time next week?”

“Yes, please.” Yongsun swallowed harshly. She couldn’t imagine giving this up just yet, even though she knew that Hyejin saw her less and less. Had heard Wheein mention to someone that sometimes she canceled a session because she knew she didn’t need it. Yongsun needed this outlet, this person, because she had so much to work through, because Byulyi had been 

(still was) 

such a big part of her life.

(even though she was gone)

Because Yongsun was beginning to understand another terrible truth, one that Yongsun could never say out loud, because then everyone would know what a horrible human being she is:

That after all this time - after all the sleepless nights and time spent crying for Byulyi, wishing for Byulyi, wondering what could have been with Byulyi - Yongsun kinda hates Byulyi.

(It’s a burning feeling in her stomach, the kind that seared when she’s alone and surrounded by Byulyi’s things)

(reminders of her and her memories.)

Except it’s not really hate. It’s much more complex than that, and Yongsun’s not really sure she really has the words for it.

(It’s waking up and feeling a chill against the side Byulyi normally slept on, the blankets unruffled from a fidgety sleep.)

(It’s watching a drama and seeing scenes between love interests, rooting for them but seeing Byulyi and her in their places.)

(It’s sitting in the car, looking out the window because she couldn’t really bear to look behind her, where Byulyi liked to sit.)

On her worst days, Yongsun thinks a lot about just disappearing. Of getting on a train to somewhere and just never coming back to Seoul. To her house. To RBW.

Of tossing her phone away and never picking up again when people called.

Of walking on the street with her eyes closed during rush hour.

Of pressing her nose into her pillow and never turning back around, not even when her lungs burned and not even when the sun rose and set and people banged on her door to check if she was okay.

Yongsun got like that, and sometimes nothing could help. Not Seulgi. Not therapy. Not the antidepressants she was on. Yongsun couldn’t get out of bed some days, with the feeling pressing down on her and making it hard for her to even think. Yongsun would spend those days curled up in her sheets, not even music playing because she couldn’t bear the stimulation. She would focus on breathing, sometimes play with holding her breath - as if that would somehow stop the hurt, stop the choking. 

(But her chest would inevitably rise, her muscles battling against her will to  _ live _ )

(And wasn’t it something that the body innately recognised  _ breathing _ as a survival instinct?)

(That it was a primitive thing that couldn’t be suppressed?)

(Yongsun wondered how many more people would be dead if without it.)

(Wondered if the boy would have ever made it on that bridge.)

(Wondered if she would have ever been an idol and met Byulyi.)

(Wondered if she would have ever survived high school.)

Yongsun would keep seeing her therapist because she couldn’t imagine going back to life before it. Because it was still hard, 

(some days more than others) 

but it had been harder, before. Before she had someone to talk to about all these bad thoughts that wouldn’t stop circling her mind. 

“Oh, and Yongsun?” Her therapist starts, just as Yongsun is about to leave. “I want you to think about this, over the next week. If you can.” Yongsun waited. “This will be hard, but I want you to really think about how it’s been for you. And then I want you to think about how it’s been for Jeongeun.”

And Yongsun swallowed hard, unable to stop the nausea. Because this pain? 

She wouldn’t have wished it on anyone else.

\- - - - - -

It was, in a word, very awkward to step into rehearsal the next day to see Jiyoon already warming up. Yongsun stopped short in the doorway. She had been sure she would’ve been first - Hyejin and Wheein almost always came right on time, if not late. 

(The latter was mostly Hyejin.)

“Hello?” Jiyoon looked up from her stretch, startled. “Hey. Jiyoon, right?”

The other girl smiled as she stood, nerves obvious in her movements. “Hi, yeah. Yes. You’re Yongsun-sunbaenim, right?”

“Yes,” Yongsun nodded as she went to drop her stuff. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be already here.”

“I wasn’t sure - I mean, it’s always better to be early.”

“That’s true.” Yongsun forced herself not to shuffle her feet. “Welcome to the team.”

Jiyoon beamed. “Thank you. I was so - I mean, I was surprised, of course, I’d just joined really - and then Do Hoon-nim said - and I’m such a big fan of you guys. So yeah.” Jiyoon rubbed the back of the neck awkwardly, and Yongsun couldn’t help but think of Byulyi doing the same thing. But Byulyi had long blonde hair, not black, and Byulyi was taller than Jiyoon was and when she smiled, Byulyi’s nose muscles crinkled just so.

Yongsun shook off the comparisons quickly. “That’s alright, Jiyoon. We’re excited to have you join us.” The words tasted metal on her tongue, and Yongsun had to turn away, pretending to busy herself with her bag. “Wheein and Hyejin will be joining us soon. Do you want to continue warming up with me?”

And really, there wasn’t anything wrong with Jiyoon. She was eager, and easy to talk to - her nerves quickly disappeared as Yongsun and her made small talk about her background through their stretches. And when Wheein and Hyejin arrived and they actually started rehearsals, Jiyoon continued to impress Yongsun with how quickly she picked up the dances.

But Yongsun couldn’t help but imagine Byulyi with them, laughing and taking over her parts with ease; playing with Yongsun, with Wheein, with Hyejin. And judging by the glances she kept exchanging with the other two, she wasn’t the only one who thought it.

In the end it had to be Yongsun that pulled Jiyoon aside after rehearsal to explain their eventual one-word answers and weird vibes. Jiyoon had looked defeated, her shoulders slumped and her smile brave. “I kind of expected it.” She shouldered the strap of her bag higher, her eyes darting around to make sure they were alone in the studio. “To be honest, I didn’t want to join in the beginning. It felt weird, you know.” She shrugged. “But Do Hoon-nim assured me it would be alright.”

“It will be. But not right away.” Yongsun wouldn’t lie to her. “We’re just... it’s hard to not see her, you know? We miss her. A lot.” Jiyoon nodded.

“I know it’s not the same, but I used to have a dog that I grew up with, but he passed away last year and - okay wait, that’s totally not the same, what the hell Jiyoon?” Yongsun couldn’t help but laugh. Jiyoon bit her lip around a hesitant smile before she too relaxed, realising no harm had been done.

Yongsun shook her head as she made to leave. Reaching a hand out, she patted Jiyoon on the shoulder. “You’ll fit in just fine.”

(And it would take awhile)

(Definitely more than awhile)

(But Yongsun was sure, someday, she would expect to see Jiyoon instead of Byulyi behind her onstage.)

\- - - - - - 

Do Hoon was a busy man. He was managing lots of artists, overseeing some of the training of the trainees, managing some of the financials - all while making sure that the company ethos of putting the artists first was being kept in mind.

So it was very rare that he received any unsolicited mail.

(Email was both the best and worst invention mankind had ever made.)

When he had seen the carefully wrapped package sitting on his desk, next to the huge bouquet of flowers, he had called over his secretary and asked about it.

“A delivery girl came over and sent them. She said your mother had asked for them to be specifically placed on your desk as a surprise for something.” She had worked at the company for a long time, and so Do Hoon was surprised she hadn’t just called him over. And then he remembered he’d had his phone off since he was in the middle of a trainee appraisals.

“You didn’t let her in, did you?” He had a lot of sensitive material laid out on his desk. Corporate espionage was a real concern for him. His secretary shook her head.

“Of course not, sir. The receptionist called in from the front desk and I took it from her there.”

Do Hoon nodded, and thanked her for the message.

Curious. His mother never sent flowers. He went back into his office and checked the card - it was a generic one with the words “With Love” on it. There were no other markings as to where the bouquet had come from.

He then moved on to the package, deciding to take a picture of it before he opened. He could never be too careful.

It had been wrapped nicely, and he had to fish out his letter opener to get to the contents.

What he found chilled him.

(Because he recognised that jacket. Those clothes.)

(And if that wasn’t enough -)

He opened the wallet with a racing heart, feeling it beat behind his tongue. A piece of paper fell out, and Do Hoon picked it up with shaking fingers. He read it twice to make sure he was reading it right, unable to put down the wallet with the pictures inside.

A moment later, he was calling the police, unable to stop the fear from creeping up on him.

Because Byulyi hadn’t died at the river. In his hand, he was holding proof there were other things at play.

(It was a simple message, just six words long.)

(The handwriting was terrible, scrawled in pen.)

When the police arrived later, they wouldn’t be able to lift any clues - no fingerprints, no discernible signs of where it came from. The CCTV from the lobby would reveal only a girl of average build wearing a cap that hid her face. The receptionist would be unable to recall her face, as would the secretary, and the police would huff and grumble about how they were still invested in this case when it was obvious the girl had died at the river and that  _ this _ was a prank from some crazy fan.

Nevertheless, the detective assigned to the case would pull out her old notes, look through all the leads she’d previously laid to rest, and remember a friend of hers - an ex-police officer turned private eye that had asked for some things on the side. She would call Ining, and invite her to come see the evidence, and Ining would rush down, because wasn’t it just her luck that she’d arrived at Seoul just that afternoon?

And Ining would take one look at the package and curse, feeling the pressure to find Byulyi mount anew.

She’d already deduced that this wasn’t the work of some mastermind, no. This was just a person with passion and an incredible amount of luck.

(Which made it all the more worse, somehow.)

Ining would hold the paper with the message in it between gloved fingers and mentally calculate how quickly she could canvas the last two locations without help. Because while working with the police would help it go faster, it was clear they already had the kidnapper provoked, somehow.

And a quick questioning later would reveal that Mamamoo had a new member and Ining would somehow remember the suspicious girl from that apartment complex so long ago, and she would tell the police to keep an eye on her while she headed back out the next day to find Byulyi.

But Do Hoon didn’t know any of that, for now.

For now, Do Hoon would just have to sit down and trust that the police would be able to handle this, because he knew he couldn’t. And if he couldn’t - then how would Mamamoo deal with it?

It was an easy decision for Do Hoon to just not tell them. Yes, he told himself, staring at the innocuous paper. This would be better for everyone. Mamamoo was about to come back, the fans were waiting. There could be no distractions.

(He hopes they will forgive him later when they do find out.)

(If there was anything  _ to _ find out, that is.)

“I’m so sorry, Byulyi.” Do Hoon would whisper to himself, picking up the rapper’s wallet. He remembered very clearly seeing her use it, a gift from Yongsun for her birthday. Byulyi’s face had lit up with happiness and Do Hoon had to swallow back the sob crawling up his throat. “We didn’t know.”

But now he did. And he would do everything he could to save her. If she was still alive, that is.

One message. Six words. They would haunt Do Hoon for years after they found her. But he didn’t know that yet.

( _ I was right to keep her.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I sort of gave it away at the end, but it's an assurance that they will find her, guys! So if you have any anxiety about that - no worries :) OUR GIRLS WILL BE OKAY DAMN IT. 
> 
> See you guys next chapter! Thank you again for everyone who commented and is still reading this <3
> 
> Summary of the second chunk: While in therapy, Yongsun admits that she kind of hates Byulyi (she's moved into the anger part of the grieving process). And we hear a bit about how bad her depression has gotten, to the point that she wants to disappear and some of her thoughts on that. But those are her Worst Days and Yongsun is getting much better, with the help of medication and therapy. Her therapist ends the session by asking her to imagine how she feels now, and imagine how much worse that would be for Jeongeun. Yongsun admits that she doesn't want anyone else to feel the pain she feels.


	11. 2.4 - the waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: trigger warning for suicidal thoughts. that starts towards the middle till the end of the third chunk. like Yongsun, Byulyi is figuring shit out.

**2.4**

For all of Yuna’s misgivings about Lala, she was heartened that Ahjumma seemed to share them as well. Sometimes, when Ahjumma got really cranky and tired from working, she would sit in the living room, doing the accounts and mutter to herself about her granddaughter.

“It’s not that I’m not proud of her being a doctor,” she would say, fingers making scratches on the paper in a shorthand only she understood. “But it would be nice to have some help around here.”

“Is moving to the city a big deal?” Yuna asked, because she had heard the other workers talking about it. Sometimes they whispered about her, when they thought they were safe, talking about how she was from the city, and how she wasn’t what they thought city people were like.

“Don’t listen to them,” Ahjumma said, waving her hand carelessly. “They have everything they need here. Lala though - this village bored her.” Yuna sipped at her tea as she listened intently. It wasn’t often that Ahjumma was in a sharing mood. “She stayed with me for awhile after her parents fucked off and left.”

Hearing such a casual swear leave the woman’s tongue used to make Yuna cringe with how harsh it was. But she was so used to it now she barely registered it. “I didn’t know about her parents. That they left, that is. Lala doesn’t talk about them much.”

“I’m not surprised.” Ahjumma tried to sound stern, but Yuna could see the statement bothered her. “They were useless, if you asked me. Not ready to be parents at all.” Yuna blinked. Wasn’t Lala’s father Ahjumma’s son?

The woman barely talked about her family either, but Yuna deduced from the two photos hung up around the house that that was how Lala was related to her. She wondered what it was about this family that made them so reluctant to remind themselves about each other.

(Yuna wonders if her family - if she ever had one - did the same to her now.)

“My son was a violent man,” Ahjumma would later open up to Yuna, on another day much later on. When Yuna learned how to brew the tea exactly how Ahjumma liked it, to be precise. The woman drank deeply from the cup, as if it were hard liquor instead of jasmine tea. “Always was. My husband used to beat him, you see? But everyone beat their children back down. If you’re lazy, you get the belt. Talked back? A smack. I don’t blame him.” Yuna thought about asking which  _ him _ Ahjumma was referring to, but decided better of it when she saw how wet the woman’s eyes were.

(Ahjumma didn’t express emotions much.)

(Yuna pretended not to notice.)

On another night, Ahjumma asks for Yuna to pull out a photo album she’d placed too high on a shelf. Dutifully, she did, and joined Ahjumma on the floor by the couch. “I wanted to show you my old wedding dress,” she said, because they had attended someone’s wedding in the small town and Yuna had been in awe of the spectacle of it all. “It took my husband two years to save up for it. It wasn’t anything fancy, but we were waiting for each other a long time.” Yuna liked it when Ahjumma talked about her husband. She was softer, and kinder, and more willing to share. Yuna knew the older woman was lonely without him.

“When did he die?” She asked, taking in the many photos showing a kindly man with a beautiful smile. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Four years ago. Lala used to stay with us till then. And then she moved to the city to join her brother.” Yuna blinked. Lala had a brother?

And sure enough, in some of the photos, there was another baby, another boy. Yuna had just assumed it was a cousin or something. “His name is Sehyun.”

“They look close.” Yuna couldn’t help but smile at one where Lala was being chased by a much older teen. “How far apart were they?”

“Seven years.” Ahjumma scoffed suddenly. “I told her that having another baby wouldn’t save their marriage, but she wouldn’t listen.” Yuna saw Lala’s parents in the photos - a stern man who clearly took after his father, and a woman Yuna would’ve done a double take in the street for. “But it doesn’t matter now.”

“Where are they? You never talk about them.”

“Gone.” Ahjumma sounded sad about it. “Just upped and left. Sehyun brought Lala to my doorstep and told me he had to go back to the city. Next thing I knew, he was dealing drugs and got caught.” Yuna swallowed hard. Wow. “I haven’t spoken to him in years. He won’t let me visit him in prison, and he won’t call.”

“Does he talk to Lala?”

“If he does, she won’t tell me.” Ahjumma sniffed. “But I doubt it.” And then she makes a snarky comment about how some of her wedding guests were dressed, and Yuna deems the topic dropped. 

But the new facts keep her up at night, wondering, wondering,  _ wondering _ . Yuna tried again to bring it up with Lala, on one of their visits, but Lala had shut them down immediately. 

“Who told you that?” If Lala were a crab, Yuna was sure she would have been nipped with a claw. “Was it Ahjumma?” 

Yuna wisely didn’t say yes. “I’ve just been wondering. And I found a photo album -”

“Don’t look at those anymore.” It was a command, not a request. “I don’t like talking about it.”

“Okay.” Yuna turned her gaze to the fields to avoid Lala’s hard stare. “But I can’t help but wonder. I don’t know my family at all, and yours is right here, and, well…”

Lala sighed. “Silly girl.” Yuna felt her chin being tipped to face her again. The other woman had a smile on her face, but Yuna couldn’t help but feel patronised. “You don’t have to think about that. I’m here. You have me.” 

“Yeah,” Yuna said, but it felt like the thing Lala wanted to hear. Pleased, Lala leaned in to kiss the corner of Yuna’s lips. “I’m sorry for upsetting you.” 

“Don’t worry. You can ask me anything. But not that. I don’t like talking about them.” Lala’s face darkened again, and Lala ignored the coldness she felt despite the approaching summer’s heat.

(It was fear, but Yuna wouldn’t name it that.)

(Couldn’t.)

“So you and Ahjumma sound close.” She shifted the conversation rapidly, and Yuna was glad for the out. “I’m glad. She gets lonely.”

“She mentioned you stayed here for a bit.” Yuna waited to see what reaction that would have, and when it wasn’t anger, she continued. “Why did you move to the city?” 

“I didn’t like it here.” Lala shrugged. “I wanted to be a doctor. And I grew up in the city, so I missed it.” A sly smile came on her face. “Maybe one day I’ll take you back. You didn’t get to see much of it, right? It’s great - the nightlife, the busyness. You can be anyone you want in the city. It doesn’t care.” 

“That does sound nice,” Yuna said, but somehow, she didn’t see it happening. “I like it here, but it does get really quiet at night.” 

“Well, it’s nearly summer now, so at least it won’t be dark for so long. I hate the dark.” 

“Really?” Yuna disliked it as well, but she didn’t mind it. The dark brought with her terrors, but she still liked the pockets of safety it had. 

(Like sipping tea with Ahjumma - that always happened at night.)

“It’s just too quiet here.” Lala tipped her head back to the sun. “The city is much better.” 

And Yuna itched to ask about Sehyun, 

(she wanted to know - did she leave to be with him? To be closer to him?)

But she didn’t. 

Instead, she lay back and listened to the sounds of the wind whipping through the leaves. Wishing she understood more about how families worked. 

Because she saw them everyday. Ahjumma sent her to sell stuff at the village market, pleased when she saw how Yuna charmed everybody she talked to. 

(And how much she managed to sell, really.)

(“Maybe you’re my lucky charm, hmm?”)

And Yuna spoke to mothers with children in their hands, babies being pushed in stollers, watched fathers stumble in to buy groceries for their wives. Yuna welcomed them all, and asked them about their days, their stories. It always amazed Yuna how easily they opened up to her, how willing to share the day’s gossip over a transaction. Yuna would pass these stories on to Ahjumma, who would listen to her talk with a wry smile hidden in her cheek. 

“Don’t listen too much to these gossips, Yuna,” Ahjumma would tell her. “They just have nothing better to do.” 

“But it’s fun, isn’t it? To get to know people?” Ahjumma had reached over to pinch her side lightly, causing Yuna to yelp as she squirmed away. “What was that for?”

“Yah, you rascal. Do I send you to the market to sell things or to make conversation, hmm?” There was no heat to her tone, and Yuna found herself smiling earnestly at her. “Ah, you’ll learn eventually. People aren’t what they seem, ever. Remember that, and don’t trust as easily, hmm?” Yuna had nodded then, almost absentmindedly - but she realised, in this moment with Lala, that she had taken the advice to heart. 

“Ahjumma wants you to stay for dinner tonight, Lala,” she shifted to talk to her. The other woman rolled her eyes. “You never stay for dinner.”

“Because then I’ll have to talk to my Ahjumma, and you don’t want to be there for that. Trust me.” Lala stood up and dusted off her hands. She held one out and waited for Byulyi to take it. “Come on, let’s go for a walk,” which was code for ‘let’s go make out in at the back of the fields where no one will see’. Yuna bit back a sigh and took it, locking her roiling feelings and thoughts safely behind her heart to examine later.

\- - - - - -

Yuna decided she hated the summer. The sticky heat that sapped her energy, the way sweat rolled down the back of her neck, the overbearing humidity made worse by their proximity to the sea. Ahjumma had taken a pair of scissors to her hair and given her a much needed haircut that helped, leaving it shoulder-length at her request. Yuna decided she liked it this way, despite Ahjumma’s tease about her being vain. 

“Ah, you’re pretty enough to pull it off.” Ahjumma had said, fingering the ends of it. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get some handsome men running after you now.” 

And it’s not like some people haven’t already tried -

(Yuna had to learn the hard way that not everyone who asked her out had friendly intentions)

But Yuna really wasn’t interested in that sort of thing. 

(Especially not with Lala in her life.)

“I don’t know, Ahjumma.” Yuna moved to help the older woman clean up. “I don’t think I want that sort of thing.”

“Right now?” 

“I don’t know. Or ever.” Yuna shrugged. 

“Ah, that’s sad.” Ahjumma handed her the broom. “I met my husband when I was seventeen and he used to piss me off. Now that he’s gone, I wonder why I didn’t marry him sooner.”

“Do you miss him, Ahjumma?” And it was closer to the real question she wanted to ask -

(Does anyone miss  _ anyone _ even after losing them for so long?)

that wouldn’t leave her lips. “You don’t talk about him much.”

“I could talk about that man for hours.” Ahjumma pursed her lips. “I guess I never really had someone who wanted to listen.”

“I want to.” Yuna smiled. “It helps, I think.” 

“Don’t go pulling that memory trick on me, you rascal.” Ahjumma sat down as she watched Yuna sweep dutifully. “It won’t always work.”

“Well, sometimes it does.” Yuna grinned this time, and Ahjumma huffed. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Well, what do you want to know?” And Yuna knows she won’t get this chance twice -

(She was suddenly grateful for the summer sun, which burned high in the sky and made Ahjumma stay indoors in the hottest hours for her health.)

So she wonders what to ask. 

Ends up going with, “Well, what was he like?”

“He was a better person than me, not that he would believe it.” Ahjumma grumbled. “He used to annoy me with how willing he was to let people have the benefit of the doubt. Even the people who took advantage of him for it. But he wasn’t a pushover either.” Yuna finished up and went to join her, sitting up against the wall, her posture perfect. “I remember, my boy once came to us, begging for  ₩3,000. He was going to start a business, he said, and it would be an investment. He would pay us back, he said.” Ahjumma snorted. “I said no. It wasn’t the first time he asked for money. He got mad. Tried to smack me, and Kangmin - well, he wouldn’t stand for it. Gave him a good knock to the head but my boy fought back and gave him a split lip. It took me calling the police to get him to leave us alone.” She sounded ashamed of this. “The next time we saw him, my boy was asking us to move to the city to join them, said it was better to sell the farm. I knew he just wanted the money, but I couldn’t tell him that - I didn’t want to anger him.” Yuna kept her eyes on her hands as Ahjumma turned away, reaching for a tissue. 

“My Kangmin - he didn’t say a word. Just looked at me.” Her voice was shaky now. “I’ll never forget it. He just looked - not for very long. Just long enough for me to look back - and he told my boy: “No, thank you.”” Yuna couldn’t help the chuckle. Ahjumma seemed to agree. “You should’ve seen him. He was drunk, so it took him awhile to understand, but when he did - he was so angry. And my Kangmin - there was a lot he didn’t like about this place, wanted to be a sailor and see the world. But he looked at me, and he knew I could never leave it - and he told my boy to his face - no. And he wasn’t even afraid, not even after the thrashing he got last time.” 

“He sounds like a good man.” Yuna wished she could have met him. “You sound like you miss him.” 

“I do.” Ahjumma blew her nose. “Now, even more so. What with Lala - and you.”  And Ahjumma’s eyes flicked to the photo of him she had hanging by the shelf, as they always did when she spoke about him. She turned, and Yuna met her gaze. “He would have liked you. 

“Thank you.” She knew that was high praise from the woman. 

“Hell,” Ahjumma sounded sad. “If he were here, we might have you sorted out somehow. He always did have a way of making people better. Look at me.” 

(And Yuna wanted to say no, she was sure Ahjumma was a good person all along -)

(But that wasn’t the point of this story at all.)

“Ahjumma,” Yuna started quietly instead, feeling safe enough to say it. “Do you think I’ll ever get my memories back?”

“Honestly?” Ahjumma’s gaze bore into her. “No. But,” she reached out to pat Yuna’s knee. “Hopefully you’ve made enough new ones that it doesn’t matter.”

“I guess. I’m confused sometimes.” Yuna fidgeted with her fingers, rubbed the back of her neck. “I have so many great things now - I have you, I’ve met so many people, I have a sense of purpose. But,” and Yuna stared out at the fields she could see from here, swaying in the wind. “I can’t help but long for more.”

“I don’t blame you.” Ahjumma sighed. She was looking out at the fields as well. “It’s been nice to have you here with me. I’d have started talking to the walls otherwise.” 

And Yuna thinks Ahjumma gets it. 

(Gets that Yuna isn’t being ungrateful or hates it here.)

(But that Yuna can’t help but miss the things she may have had before.)

(And can’t help but feel robbed of everything she could have had in the future.)

And Yuna knows that Ahjumma would never leave this village - that she loved her fields and her mudflats and the comforting routine and the people she knows like the back of her hand. But Yuna somehow knew that life wouldn’t be hers. Couldn’t be. 

So now Yuna wondered how Ahjumma would feel if Yuna asked to leave for the city too, someday. To where Lala said people didn’t care as much who their neighbours were, or their stories. 

(Yuna has the feeling Ahjumma would miss her.)

(And she thinks she would miss Ahjumma too.)

\- - - - - - 

The only saving grace to summer were the pockets of time spent by the beach. Yuna would sometimes take walks along the mudflats, continuing on for twenty minutes or so till she reached the public beach where the other villagers tended to frequent. Families would lounge, spread out on their blankets and enjoying their picnics and the sea. Couples and friends would be dotted around, enjoying each others company. And everywhere, Yuna would see people looking happy and content, basking in the summer sun. 

Yuna never came with anyone else - had made it a point to not bring Lala along. This was  _ her _ place, almost. Alone amongst all these people. 

Sometimes Yuna would walk by the water, shoes in her hand and letting her feet sink into the wet sand. Feel the waves crash over her toes. Other times Yuna would head to her cluster of rocks and perch, just people watching or folding paper shapes from the newspapers Ahjumma had finished reading. Yuna didn’t care much for the news - she often felt so isolated from the bigger world in this town that it almost didn’t matter. 

It was a moment of calm in the constant storm of emotions that kept her up at night. She would scribble her thoughts down on the shapes before tossing them into the water, watching them bob awhile before sinking when the wet got too much for it to handle. It helped, she realised, to not hold onto them for too long. 

But she was quickly realising that it almost didn’t matter anymore, because her thoughts were circling the same topic, her fingers forming the same words over and over. 

(Stuck. Stuck.  _ Stuck _ .) 

Yuna heaved a sigh as she fidgeted with her latest creation, the words mocking her. Yuna felt stuck. And she wasn’t sure what exactly she could do about it. 

Lala would never go for it. Would never let Yuna buy a ticket to the city to join her, never let her leave this town and figure out if maybe a new future awaited her. Yuna knew this with a certainty. And Yuna couldn’t ask Ahjumma for help because what would Lala do if she knew Ahjumma had helped Yuna leave? 

(Yuna trusted Ahjumma explicitly.)

(But Yuna also thought of how Ahjumma had sounded almost scared of Lala’s father.)

(Lala’s actions made more sense now.)

On her worst days, Yuna lived with this fear in her throat, lingering at the edges of her heels, making her jumpy, irritable, sluggish. Once, Yuna had been tilling the fields and was seized with a rush of anxiety so great she had to sit down and rock back and forth, a keening sound leaving her throat as she struggled to breathe. It clamped around her lungs and made her vision swim with more than just tears. 

She would never leave this place, she thought, the certainty of it haunting her. And while it was something she could ignore - even make peace with - some days, it was  also something that left her feeling trapped and powerless in ways she couldn’t describe. 

Someone had gone to get Ahjumma, who took one look at her and snapped at her to get her shit together, her hand calming on Yuna’s back the way it always was on those nights when Ahjumma would sit by her side after a particularly bad nightmare. 

Yuna  _ needed _ to leave. But how? 

She looked out at the sea and was suddenly seized with an impossible thought of walking into the sea and never looking back. Of feeling the land drop out from underneath her and walking still, holding her breath as the waves took her weight, left her spinning on their surface. Till there was nothing to her but water, and the sky, and her thoughts spilling out through her ears, her nose, her mouth and into the sea so that they didn’t matter. 

Yuna could almost feel it now - the way the rocks would scrape her bare feet, the lightness she would feel once she was fully afloat. She longed for it, with a sharpness she never had before, and that was when Yuna knew she had to go home. 

But where  _ was _ home? 

(She felt weightless, being tugged in all directions by the wind that was coming off the waves.)

(Yuna had felt that way for some time.) 

(She longed too to feel grounded. Secure. Unmoved.)

(Safe.)

(Here.)

Sinking into herself, Yuna thought desperately of Ahjumma and tea, of fields swaying in the wind, of gossip being traded in the early morning hours. Yuna thought of smiles that were hard to earn and caring touches that turned her head this way and that to give her a good haircut and people who cared enough to call for help when she sat in a field, rocking back and forth in tears. Yuna thought of those things and tried to hold on to the comfort, the happiness those things gave her. 

And they were enough for now, sending her reeling back from her previous urge, sending her scrambling up and away, leaving the torn newspaper and paper crane on the rocks and setting her feet running back towards the people, the families, the couples and friends that reminded her that yes, there was life in this village and yes, that life could be hers still, for now. For now. 

(Till when, Yuna refused to consider.) 

And when she got home, got to Ahjumma’s house, the older woman was grumpy as usual, a pot of tea waiting on the table and two cups set out. Muttered something about it being time she was home, that she couldn’t expect old women like her to wait on her own whims. 

And Yuna would be grateful for the normalcy, would settle next to her and sip from her tea 

(still warm)

and pretended that the heat of the drink would soak into her veins and slow her beating heart. 

(That night, Yuna dreamt of being tossed in the water, in the river, to the sea and bobbing, bobbing, bobbing on the waves.)

(Till she reached the horizon and got swallowed by the starless night.)

(She woke up, grasping her sheets - but feeling the waves in her still.)

\- - - - - - 

For all her revelations and concerns, Yuna would never have imagined that her idyllic days in the village would start to come to an end like this: 

She goes out on the Monday as per usual to sell the catch from the mudflats at the market. It’s a lucky day - they sell almost everything by 8am, and Yuna gets to scuttle off for a walk in the early morning sun, a gentle breeze following at her back. Yuna had plans of going to the bookstore, but remembered it didn’t open till 10am, so she settled for getting breakfast at the cafe that one of her customers owns. The owner was pleased to see her and lets her sit her on the porch outside, so she can be away from the stuffiness that causes discomfort whenever she goes.

Yuna ended up ordering an iced coffee and croissant, before leaning back in her seat, fiddling with the smartphone Lala had bought for her in her other hand. She had no one to text, to call. Sometimes she plays games, but there wasn’t much free time in her life right now. Besides, the internet was just terrible in Ahjumma’s place, so Yuna never really bothered. 

Instead, she begins to people-watch. The cafe was right on the village’s busiest street, so it was always exciting, even at that hour. Yuna was scanning the street mindlessly when she noticed someone staring right at her. 

(And not in the polite way either.)

(This was a stare of someone who really wanted to  _ see _ something.)

It was a woman, older than her probably. Tall, with short dark hair and Chinese features. Yuna’s brows furrowed as she looked away, thinking it was a fluke. But no, she confirmed with some irritation, the woman meant to stare at her. And Yuna couldn’t help the niggling feeling of discomfort she felt - this odd sort of  _ anticipation _ that crept up on her and had her squirming under this woman’s gaze. 

But she doesn’t stop the woman from walking towards her, from crossing the road, from coming closer. Yuna has to look away - 

(hopes to be left alone) 

but it doesn’t work because the woman is suddenly at her table. 

“Can I help you?” Yuna had never seen her before, and it set her on edge. She can hear the owner making her drink behind her, leaving her with no allies. She briefly contemplated getting up and leaving if the woman caused trouble, only to be stop by an outstretched hand, the woman’s voice slightly breathless as she speaks. Yuna’s eyes widen. 

“No, but I’ve come to help  _ you _ .” Yuna’s heart kicks into double time. “My name is Tay Ining, and I think I’ve been looking for you for the past eight months.” 

(Yuna feels a wave crash somewhere in her, and wonders if anyone else can hear it it.)

(Somewhere else, a shift occurs that causes - allows - Yuna  to draw in a deep breath.)

(And through it all, all Yuna can think is:  _ Finally _ .)

(Finally, finally,  _ finally _ .)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, eh? 
> 
> I hope this chapter was good! I had to change all the tenses in the last chunk - originally wanted it in present and future tense, but something just didn't sit right with that. if this current text feels weird, give me a shout, yeah?
> 
> also: sorry for the wait between updates. i've just moved house and we don't even have wifi yet. been trying to sort it out, but i have to get to uni to get wifi till then - but i've also just sprained my leg really badly (my ankle makes me think of a golf ball). soooooo. lots of disruptions in my life right now haha
> 
> next chapter coming soon!


	12. 2.5 - the filling of the cracks

**2.5**

Yongsun still visited the memorial, but not as often as she did anymore. Her therapist had settled some of her guilt by reminding her that it was alright to move on, that she wasn’t forgetting - not necessarily.

(Yongsun doesn’t exactly plan on clearing out her apartment anytime soon either, so that helped the anxiety quite a bit.)

It sent a pang through her when she noticed that there were less additions to it each time she went. As if, like her, people were beginning to let go. To move on.

But it was nice still to see it there, to stand by it and look out over the water and find it harder and harder to remember exactly how it happened.

(Memory, as her therapist had explained, was a fickle thing.)

(It never truly was absolute and true.)

(Rather, it was malleable and untrustworthy, prone to exaggeration and suggestion.)

(Despite how much humans pretended otherwise.)

Seulgi arrives slightly later than they’d planned, but Yongsun doesn’t comment on it. Instead, she held out their usual coffees, waiting patiently as Seulgi took it breathlessly, wiping away the sweat trickling down her cheek.

“Thanks.”

“Running from something?” Yongsun teased, raising an eyebrow elegantly.

(She’d learnt that from Byulyi, in fact.)

(Infuriating idiot, she thought fondly.)

“Oh ha ha, very funny.” Seulgi rolled her eyes while she took a long drink. “Gods, my parents drive me crazy sometimes.”

“I remember.” Yongsun laughed, pleased for the wind that tugged at her hair. “Coming home for the summer was always something I looked forward to and hated at the same time.”

“Yeah, it’s nice, but - it’s not the same.” Seulgi began picking at the sleeve, trying to be nonchalant. “I mean, besides the obvious.”

“What’s up?” Yongsun hadn’t asked much about Byulyi’s family, especially since Seulgi didn’t bring it up. She didn’t want to pick at open wounds, and it wasn’t until recently that she was able to make small talk again. “Wanna talk about it?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just -“ Seulgi crinkled her nose. “God, it’s so hot, isn’t it?”

“Hottest summer yet, I think.” Yongsun had purposely gone with lighter clothing in an attempt to beat the heat. She often considered cutting her hair shorter, but always remembered Byulyi teasing her about the short bob wig they’d put her in for the _New York_ video and thought better of it.

“When we were kids, Byulyi-unnie used to take us out to the playground and play with us in the summer. She once stole money from our Omma to buy us ice creams - she got caught and got scolded so badly we weren’t allowed out for a week. But unnie didn’t give a shit,” Seulgi chuckled. “She just laughed and made us climb the furniture like monkeys until Omma got pissed and let us out again.” Yongsun smiled, seeing the image in her mind. “I miss that about her.”

“Yeah, me too.” Yongsun stared out at the river. “It’s not the same without her.”

“Jiyoon-sunbaenim not cutting it?” Seulgi had been the first person Yongsun had told, of course.

(Seulgi had left the message unread for a day before replying with a simple _okay_.)

“Nah, that’s not it.” Maybe it was because Jiyoon was a fan of them before joining, or maybe because she joined so late, or maybe because she was replacing Byulyi of all people - but she just wasn’t clicking with the rest of them yet. The first month made sense, but now they were almost reaching their third and Yongsun couldn’t honestly say she felt comfortable enough around the woman to consider them friends. And with their comeback coming up, it caused everyone a bit of worry.

“I mean, we don’t have to be friends, since we’re colleagues,” Seulgi made a sound of agreement. “But Do Hoon-nim is worried about interviews and stuff. Where the chemistry will get tested.”

“I mean, people can’t honestly expect you guys to be completely the same.” Seulgi argued, frown tucked into her cheek.

Yongsun shrugged.

“Even this new song is - I don’t know, we’re all worried I guess.” Hyejin had moved up to main rapper, while Jiyoon was lead. And unlike Byulyi, Jiyoon actually got parts singing in the song, so the entire dynamic had changed in a fundamental way.

(Her role was the ‘raw potential’, as Do Hoon put it.)

(Yongsun couldn’t help sometimes but feel like even he was grasping for straws with that one.)

“That’s understandable.” Seulgi clicked her tongue. “But maybe this is for the better. What do the fans think?”

Yongsun thought of the reactions to the news so far and wished she didn’t know as much as she did. “Most are glad we’re coming back at all,” she began, rolling out her shoulders at the tension that was creeping up on her. “But there’s a handful of them who are really against Jiyoon.” For now, Do Hoon didn’t deem them to be a worry, but with their comeback date so close, the fans had to settle with having to be open to being surprised. For some reason they weren’t doing as much promo for the comeback as they used to - no vLives and Mamamoo TV stuff - which probably wasn’t helping the cause.

(Do Hoon had been increasingly distracted as of late.)

(Which was weird for him, but Yongsun couldn’t imagine that this was an easy time on him either.)

Yongsun just hoped it would go over well in the end. The song was good, and she would hate for anyone to dislike it just because they’d changed.

“Sucks to be her.” Seulgi commented off-handedly, both of them falling into a silence as a particularly loud car whipped past them.

(And Yongsun couldn’t help but agree - because Jiyoon was funny, and a little shy, and earnest in all the right ways.)

(And if it came down to it, Yongsun wouldn’t let anyone badmouth her teammate.)

(But she wasn’t so sure about Wheein and Hyejin yet.)

(That would have required _talking_ to them.)

(Even she was beginning to admit this whole avoidance situation was ridiculous.)

“My mom wasn’t too happy I was coming to see the memorial again.” Seulgi said suddenly. “She thinks I need to go less.”

“I mean, we haven’t really been coming as often, have we?”

“Maybe you haven’t.” Seulgi chuckled without mirth. “I keep thinking about how there’s still so much I don’t know about my sister.”

Yongsun’s heart beat faster. “Such as?”

“A lot of things. We didn’t really talk about her life very much while she was alive.” Seulgi started clapping out a rhythm against the railing. “She was always much more interested in talking about me. And I guess I let her, because she’s so easy going she wouldn’t let a lot of things get to her.”

That sounded like Byulyi, except Yongsun knew better. Knew that Byulyi didn’t often ask for help. That she projected that confidence to keep people away. That if she had a problem that was really nagging at her, she’d talk to Yongsun - and it would always be something that made Yongsun wonder what was really going on inside her head.

(Once, she’d called Yongsun late at night, the two of them sleeping in their own apartments for once.)

(Sleepy, Yongsun had scrambled to keep up as Byulyi talked about what she could do after this -)

(After Mamamoo, after their youth, after they became obsolete.)

(And Yongsun had told her to stop thinking so far ahead, to focus on the now -)

(And Byulyi had chuckled, low and breathy in her ear, and said -)

(“I can’t do that forever. Things are good now, but what about when Seulgi and Yeseol need help in the future? What if my parents suddenly fall ill? Appa just got out of hospital for his gout - I don’t wanna be unprepared, you know?”)

(And Yongsun did know - knew that Byulyi kept a hefty savings account with another one set up just for her family.)

(That even though they were expected to dress nicely even for a trip to the grocery because of paparazzi and reporters, Byulyi would think and think and think about whether she should buy something branded.)

(That Byulyi still didn’t own her own car despite having a license because she didn’t want to pay for the insurance on something she would drive maybe twice a week.)

(Yongsun couldn’t remember what she’d said in reply, but Byulyi had sighed thoughtfully and said -)

(“Thanks for letting me call you, unnie. I always feel better after talking to you.”)

“I don’t know about that.” Yongsun stares carefully. “Your sister probably didn’t want to worry you.”

“Yeah, I figured it was something like that.” Seulgi sighed, the rhythm stopping abruptly. “Those are the thoughts that keep me up at night. That I should’ve done more while she was here. Should have been there for her the way she was for me.”

Yongsun couldn’t help a smile. “Byulyi didn’t mind. She always had good things to say about you and Yeseol.”

“That doesn’t actually make me feel better.” Seulgi’s lips twitched. “Did she have someone like that to go to? Someone to just talk to? I guess the rest of Mamamoo maybe, but -“ Her gaze was searching, and Yongsun just nodded. This, she could do.

“Of course. She had Hyejin and Wheein and I.”

“That’s good.” This time, Seulgi did return her smile. Not all the way, but enough. “That makes me feel better.”

“I’m glad.” Yongsun exhaled deeply. “That you talked me to about this.”

“I should’ve talked about it before, to be honest.” Seulgi shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t sure if you wanted to hear it.”

“Hey,” Yongsun said as she reached out to put her hand on Seulgi’s shoulder. It felt like something Byulyi would have done. “I would love to listen to anything you wanted to say. Besides,” Yongsun grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “Sometimes they’re even interesting.”

“Unnie!” Seulgi pouted as she pushed Yongsun lightly. Yongsun laughed because that was something Byulyi would have done.

(She would have squared off and said something equally as witty - )

(Take the opportunity to really get under Yongsun’s skin – )

(Probably say something like _oh, so you admit you think I’m interesting?_ )

“Anything else you want to know about Byulyi?” Yongsun asked when they’d stopped playing around. The wind picked up as a truck roared by, sending Yongsun’s hand to pat down her hair. “I could try and answer some of your questions.”

“I mean,” Seulgi began thoughtfully, her eyes roving over Yongsun’s face carefully. “There is one question I want to ask.”

“So ask.” Yongsun couldn’t think of any particular question she couldn’t answer. Seulgi didn’t look convinced, and Yongsun huffed as she tossed her hair. “Seulgi-ah. Come on.”

Seulgi’s mouth flattened seriously. Took a deep breath while Yongsun waited. Yongsun certainly didn’t expect _that_ question.

“Were you and my sister ever together?”

A pause. Yongsun’s mouth went dry.

(So maybe there _was_ a question Yongsun couldn’t answer.)

“I know it’s kinda late to ask this, but I have to know.” Seulgi looked so much like Byulyi then, Yongsun had to resist a shudder.  “Were you and Byulyi-unnie dating?”

(Absently, Yongsun noted that the steely gaze Byulyi sometimes got ran in the family.)

“Yes.” Because Yongsun wouldn’t lie to her. “Yes, we were.”

“Okay.” Seulgi didn’t say anything else for a long time.

(Yongsun’s heart raced, like she’d been punched and was waiting for the next attack.)

“It really is okay, you know.” Seulgi’s eyes flicked over to roam Yongsun’s face. “I’m not mad or anything, it wasn’t - isn’t - any of my business.” She sighed as she rubbed at her eyes. “I just wish she’d told us herself. I was talking to Omma earlier, and she said - well, it doesn’t matter.” The younger woman laughed. “Byulyi-unnie definitely got that bad habit of talking in circles from our Omma.”

“You really don’t mind?” They’d only broached the topic of coming out to people once - and Byulyi had been sure that her family would have issues with it.

(So would Yongsun’s - but she knew they would have eventually come around to it, especially with her sister on her side.)

“That you made her happy? Fuck no.” Seulgi shrugged. “Like I said, wasn’t any of my business. I’m just glad she wasn’t alone.” Byulyi often said in interviews that she had a plan for marriage; Yongsun knew that was her go-to answer to keep people off her back.

(They hadn’t talked about it either, both of them knowing that despite being together for the better part of three years? That it just wasn’t time yet.)

“Thank you.” Something tickled at Yongsun’s cheek, and she was surprised to see a stray tear. “That – it means a lot.”

“No, unnie.” Seulgi took her hand gently. “Thank _you_.” Seulgi leaned in closer. “When I say you’re her person, I meant it. Anyone could see you two loved each other.”

Yongsun just chuckled. “Yah, why are we always crying when we see each other?”

“Fuck if I know. You’re the one making it sappy this time.” Seulgi didn’t let go of Yongsun’s hand as she finished off her drink. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Yongsun coughed to clear her throat. “Let’s.” She crushed her cup in her hand as they walked towards the memorial, inspecting the items. Picking up the letters and other things that might get water-damaged, she stuffed them into her backpack and straightened with a sigh. Byulyi’s picture would need to be replaced – the laminate was beginning to show signs of wear and tear. Her wide grin made Yongsun smile slightly.

“Hey Yongsun,” Seulgi asked quietly, her gaze on her sister’s face as well. “Do you think Byulyi-unnie knew how much we loved her?”

“Yeah.” There was that feeling again, choking Yongsun. But it wasn’t sadness – not anymore. It was something else entirely that left her feeling overwhelmed. “Yeah, she definitely knew.”

(And in her heart, Yongsun knew that to be true.)

(Even though Yongsun herself had never said the words.)

( _I love you._ )

\- - - - -

Yongsun wasn’t even surprised anymore to be walking in on Jiyoon in the practice room. The other girl was dedicated, which was something Yongsun appreciated. But it worried her at the same time.

(She thought of Wheein, who never did anything halfway)

(Of Hyejin, who derived her confidence by finding niches only she could fill.)

(Of Byulyi speaking softly to her about her fears of not being good enough to be in this vocal group as a rapper.)

“You don’t have to do this, you know?” Yongsun spoke up as the music stopped, Jiyoon spinning around at the end of her dance practice.

“What?” Yongsun could see how sweaty she was, and she knew the practice room had been booked for two hours before their actual rehearsal. Jiyoon accepted the water Yongsun offered with an equally breathless thanks. “What are you talking about?”

“This.” Yongsun plopped herself down next to the younger girl

(Who, in the beginning, had reminded her of Byulyi in all the wrong ways)

(Who, week after week, continued to impress Yongsun with how hard she was trying, how resilient she was being to the negative reactions from the fans.)

“You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone.” Yongsun didn’t want Jiyoon to think she had to work harder than anyone else to stay in the group. She was a different person - a different dancer, a different singer, a different _rapper_ \- than Byulyi was. Yongsun doesn’t think anyone has told her that yet.

“I’m not.” Jiyoon had a tell for her nervousness - she would shift her legs, bounce them around and bend them at the knee to bounce them there if she could. Just like Do Hoon. “I’m just making sure I can keep up.”

“You do.” Yongsun reached out to pat her on the shoulder. “So stop coming in early just to practice. You know this dance in your sleep.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” There went the leg, bouncing, bouncing, bouncing right next to Yongsun’s thigh. “But I think I’m mostly trying to prove to myself that I can do this, you know?” Yongsun sensed there was more to be said, so she waited. “I’ve been trying to debut for so long. Seven years. Anyone else would have quit by now.” A light chuckle. “And now that I’m actually here - I don’t know. I just wanna be good, you know?”

“You are.” Yongsun got where she was coming from. They all had that fear - if they weren’t good

(Weren’t the best)

Then they weren’t worth anything, in the eyes of the entertainment industry. But Yongsun also knew that those were the thoughts that ate you alive. “Do Hoon-nim wouldn’t have put you here if he didn’t think you were ready.”

“Really?” Jiyoon’s laugh this time felt dark. “Because he came while I was practicing the song and gave me tons of comments. And then he said that I still had a long way to go.”

Yongsun shook her head. Their CEO was all tough love and sometimes tactless comments. He was a good mentor to have, because he didn’t hold back, but Yongsun knew how hard it must’ve been to hear something like that when you were already feeling like Jiyoon did.

(Out of place and unworthy.)

“That old man is never happy. So don’t listen to him as much.” Jiyoon looked at her with wide eyes. “I’m serious. He tells us the same thing. We got scolded so badly after our first ever performance on Music Bank, did anyone tell you that?” It’s a story they liked to tell to remind themselves of how far they’ve come, but Yongsun also took it as a cautionary tale. “We all have a ways to go. We can’t keep trying to be the ‘best’ because who’s the real judge of that?” Yongsun sighed as she thought of an example. “We thought _Decalcomanie_ was so good. In the end, it didn’t get us as many wins as we thought it would.” She winked at Jiyoon. “Not that that’s the marker we should be going for, you see?”

“But people love it still. I mean, my friends and I sing it at karaoke.” Jiyoon blushed at the confession, and Yongsun’s heart warmed. “I mean, not that that should make you feel weird or anything - I don’t -”

“Relax, Jiyoon-ah.” She placed her hand on Jiyoon’s knee. “But you get it, right?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Jiyoon sniffed. “But I’m still going to come in early to practice. It helps with my nerves.”

Yongsun groaned loudly, muttering about stubborn children. Jiyoon laughed at the comment, just in time for Wheein and Hyejin to raise their eyebrows curiously as they entered.

“Everything alright?” Hyejin asked as she placed her bag by the wall. “What did we miss?”

“Just Jiyoon being stubborn,” Yongsun teased affectionately. “She won’t stop practicing so much. It worries me.”

Ignoring Jiyoon’s cry of “Unnie!”, Yongsun got up and started to root through her bag for her laptop for the warm up. Wheein snorted gracelessly as Hyejin huffed with her hands on her hips.

“Seriously? Again? We talked about this already.” Hyejin wasn’t mad, just worried. Jiyoon rolled her eyes in reply.

“We’re coming back next week. I just really want to be ready.”

“Ah, what can we do. She’s determined to overtake us all.” Wheein winked, and Yongsun laughed.

“Yah, that’s rich, coming from you, Miss Stayed-Overnight-Before-Our-Evaluations.” The words were out of her mouth before she really thought of them, and for a moment, everyone stopped

(Or she thought everyone did.)

because Yongsun still hadn’t really interacted with Wheein since that night.

(And vice versa.)

Yongsun wondered if Wheein was going to reply at all, when the vocalist glanced at her

(Just for a moment.)

Before she surprised everyone by pointing a finger at her and going “You’ve done it too!”

And Hyejin - bless her - didn’t miss a beat, joining in on the bickering. “Yah, you’re both idiots. We’ve all done that, remember?” And then she began to tell Jiyoon the story of how they once all basically moved into the studio, the week before their _You’re the Best_ comeback. Jiyoon ooh-ed and aah-ed in the all the right places, but Yongsun wasn’t paying attention anymore.

Instead, she looked at Wheein, who was looking right at her. And offered her a tentative smile.

Yongsun smiled right back.

(And it wasn’t a lot of progress, in the larger scheme of things.)

(But it felt -)

(like most things had felt recently)

(like some sort of new beginning.)

(Her therapist grins at her when Yongsun tells her the news.)

(Tells her: _Good job, Yongsun._ )

(Yongsun is pleased she can feel the flutter in her chest without any pain.)

\- - - - - -

Comebacks were always stressful on everyone. There were a lot of moving parts to keep abreast of, and even Yongsun didn’t know them all. She just knew that her schedule was packed and she wouldn’t even have time to breathe, really.

So Yongsun called Seulgi. Just for a chat.

(Not because she suddenly missed Byulyi keenly.)

(Was starting to see her everywhere again now.)

And Seulgi knew exactly what to say.

“What are you calling me for?” Seulgi didn’t need to be there to imagine what Seulgi’s face looked like.

(Just on the verge of worried, but mostly amused.)

(Her free hand hovering close to her mouth in case she needed to stifle a laugh.)

“Alright, don’t laugh at me, please.” Yongsun was pacing the length of the green room, decidedly not looking at the screens. They were waiting on the call for their rehearsal, and her nerves were starting to make her hands shake. “I’m being serious here.”

“Yah, Kim Yongsun. Are you actually calling me because you’re _scared_ of going onstage? This is your job.” And Yongsun would admonish her for addressing her so familiarly, but she couldn’t find it in her right now. “You’ve done this hundreds of times before.”

“Yeah, but normally Byulyi would be here to keep me distracted.” Seulgi hummed understandingly. “Tell me I’m going to be okay.”

Her voice, while not as low as Byulyi’s, was close enough that Yongsun could pretend. “You’ll be fine, unnie.” A low chuckle. “You’re going to go onstage and kill it. You’re gonna be all sexy and beautiful and -”

“Oh shut up.” She was sure she was blushing now, and Seulgi knew it. Yongsun endured the full bellied laugh on the other end, because this was exactly what she needed. Someone to tell her she was being ridiculous. To tell her that she had this.

“I need you to know that I don’t like people laughing at me, you know. Not even my girlfriend’s sister.” Seulgi laughed again. “You know what? Fine. Thanks for nothing. Goodbye.”

(Her words were harsh, but she was smiling.)

(Grinning, actually.)

She caught the tail end of Seulgi’s “wait, wait, wait!” before she hung up, but she felt lighter already. A text followed immediately, with a bunch of huge smileys and cheering emoticons from Seulgi, and Yongsun simply replied with a “I hate you”.

(Seulgi replied instantly with “I know you don’t”.)

“Did you call in your lifeline?” It took a moment for Yongsun to realise she was being spoken to, because she was not expecting it to be Wheein in front of her. The vocalist had a small smile on her face, her hands behind her back. She didn’t make an attempt to sit next to the leader even though Yongsun was only taking up the corner.

Feeling bold, Yongsun rolled her eyes affectionately before waving her phone carelessly. “Yeah, but the rascal wasn’t interested in being helpful. I swear to god all the Moon children have made it their mission to tease me.”

“You make it easy, unnie.” Wheein still didn’t make to sit, so Yongsun patted the cushion next to her. Wheein hesitated, her face showing an internal debate before she huffed and plopped down next to her.

(Not as close as she used to sit.)

(But closer than they’d been in a long time.)

“I can’t believe we’re back here.” Wheein was looking around the room wonderingly. “Last time I was here, it was just me and the staff. It felt weird. I had to play with the camera myself and everything.” Yongsun tried to picture that, but found that she couldn’t. Obviously she’d made her own solo appearances since Byulyi’s accident, but it hadn’t felt as lonely because Yongsun had steadfastly buried those feelings.

(She had always been good at pretending.)

(A leader always had to appear unruffled -)

“I get what you mean.” Yongsun started flipping her phone around and around in her hand, the lock screen intermittently showing up with the movement - a photo of her and Byulyi pressed up against each other, Byulyi pressing a kiss to Yongsun’s temple staring up at her in flashes. “I’ve missed this a lot.”

There were no cameras today, even though it would have made sense to have them. Do Hoon had taken one look at them at their final appraisal last week and understood that that wasn’t something they would be ready for.

(Yongsun hadn’t seen much of him lately, either.)

(Which seemed to be par for the course for him these days.)

(In another time, Yongsun would have tried to find out why.)

(But this was their first comeback without Byulyi and there was no real protocol for this situation, was there?)

When the silence between them grew a beat too long, Yongsun spoke up. “Is Hyejin getting her makeup done?” Yongsun asked the question, even though she already knew the answer. Wheein, for her part, seemed glad for the small talk, and responded in kind. Both of them batted back and forth like this a few more times, the air growing increasingly stilted until Wheein sighed and put her head in her hands.

“I’m sorry.” Yongsun just blinked, not daring to move an inch, in case she startled the other woman and broke the moment. “I don’t mean to make it hard, I just -”

“Hey.” Yongsun realised she didn’t know what else to say when Wheein looked at her, her eyes wide and pleading for _something_. “It’s okay,” she finished lamely. Keeping her gaze down, Yongsun tried to figure out how to continue. “It’s - I mean, I get it. It’s been a long time since we - well, since we’ve even really been in a room together, right?” And even though they’d been at rehearsals aplenty, Wheein and Yongsun had still tried to stay away from each other as much as possible.

(Yongsun deliberately at first.)

(And then unavoidably, after.)

(When the awkwardness and the ghosts of too many conversations that needed to be had had stacked up between them.)

“I need you to know that I’m sorry too.” Yongsun hadn’t expected this conversation to happen now -

(or ever, really)

(it was just one of those things you would never have a good time for)

But now that it was here, Yongsun wasn’t going to let it go without a fight. “For how I’ve been treating you. I know we’ve been distant -”

“It wasn’t all you though, unnie.” Wheein sounded ashamed of this, but Yongsun couldn’t bear to look up to see just yet. “I’ve been - well, selfish is the word I’ve come to, but it - it’s been hard, you know?” And Yongsun was obviously going to reply with a “yeah” or “of course”, but Wheein interrupted her again with a scoff. “I mean, of course you know. It’s probably been hell for you.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wheein reach up to press her thumb over the tattoo that sat on her left forearm.

( _La vie est courte, l'art est long._ )

“It’s not a competition, Wheein. We’ve all been hurting.” Yongsun found some sliver of annoyance slipping through, which surprised her. “But I just wish we’d worked it out earlier. Not let it hang over us like this, you know?” Yongsun pressed her phone screen against her thigh. “You were - are - my friend, Wheein. One of my best friends. And I missed you.”

“Yeah.” Wheein made a noise that sounded like a sniffle.

(But Wheein was always the one - out of the three of them - who didn’t cry as easily.)

“Yeah, I missed you too.” She cleared her throat and looked away, and Yongsun found herself fighting back tears too.

(But these were happy tears.)

(Relieved tears.)

“I don’t really know what to do now, to be honest with you.” Wheein exhaled noisily. “I had this whole speech in my head, but it seems… lesser now.”

“Then don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it either.” Yongsun winced at how that sounded. “I mean, there really isn’t anything else to say, right? I was an idiot, you were an idiot. Let’s just agree on that, and we can move on.” And really, Yongsun could’ve asked her for an explanation, for a reason why things had come to this.

But she just felt tired. And she just really, really missed her friend.

Wheein laughed, relieved at the tension breaking. “Okay, unnie. I can accept that. But you were the bigger idiot.” Yongsun gasped while Wheein dissolved into giggles, crossing her arms to drive her point home. “You have to accept that. Otherwise we can’t be friends again.”

“How dare you!” Yongsun knew she was pouting, but she was already reaching out for Wheein’s sides as she spoke, causing the other woman to squeal and scramble away. “Come back here!”

“Unnie, no, you have to say it! Say “I’m the bigger idiot!””

“Like hell I will!” And Yongsun ended up chasing Wheein around the room, her steps light and her laughter lighter. “Stop running away!”

“What’s going on here?” Hyejin called out when she entered, only to be met with the sight of Wheein pinned against the wall by Yongsun, her hands pushing the leader’s arms behind her. Jiyoon peeked around the maknae, back from her trip to the washroom, her eyes curious. Yongsun, becoming aware of her position, cleared her throat but had nothing else to say.

“We made up.” Wheein said simply. And Hyejin - bless her again - simply looked between the two of them and groaned.

“That’s good and all, but could you not do it while stepping on my bag?”

And it took a moment, but Yongsun started to laugh at that, moving her foot out of the way, holding on to Wheein as she joined in, muffling her giggles into Yongsun’s chest.

(And Hyejin could play the beleaguered maknae all she wanted.)

(Tired of her member’s antics.)

(But Yongsun knew - because she had caught her gaze across the room - that she was happy.)

\- - - - - -

Stepping onstage, Yongsun realised exactly how much she’d missed this. Standing under the hot stage lights. The moment before the backing track started. The feel of a microphone in her hand. The counting down to her parts. The energy of the fans. And at the end, the wild applause and cheers.

Yongsun had missed it all.

“To a good start!” Hyejin called out in the dressing room after, a can of beer in one hand. “To not messing up too obviously!” Her members all laughed, contrasting with the indignant rebukes from the staff. “Ah, lighten up. We did well today.”

And they had, judging by the way the fans were reacting. Jiyoon’s hard work had paid off, and the internet was abuzz with compliments and excitement that Mamamoo really was back. Yongsun didn’t want to jinx it but she had a feeling they would get a win in the first week.

(She knocked on a wooden table for good measure.)

“How does it feel, Jiyoon-unnie?” Wheein was curled up on the couch as everyone started to pack up around them. They had another taping to go to, and people were eager to get going. Yongsun felt a smile grow on her face at the sight of the younger woman glowing.

“It was amazing. I mean, I’d performed before, obviously but I’d never - it was different - the energy - and the fan chants oh my god!” She couldn’t seem to settle on one thought, jumping from one to another in her excitement. “I don’t know how I’m going to do another taping now. I’m already craving another live performance.”

They all laughed, because they knew the feeling. “That’s just the adrenaline talking, unnie. Be careful not to wear yourself out.” Wheein patted her on the shoulder as she started to get her things together. They chatted amiably as they left the building, clustered together to meet the fans.

“So here’s a tip: make sure to keep going,” Yongsun whispered as they stepped through the doors to the parking lot, unsurprised to see the crowds of people flanking the aisle the security team had set out to their cars. “You can stop and talk, maybe even accept a few gifts or sign autographs. But you can’t stop for all of them, okay? I pick one person maybe every ten steps.” Jiyoon nodded, her eyes wide as she took it all in.

(This part of her job, Yongsun hadn’t missed as much.)

(The fans waving posters and CDs in their faces, their hands stuck out for high fives, the phones held up to their faces as they recorded.)

(Audience interaction left her feeling warm, but this particular form of it just left her feeling used.)

“Don’t get overwhelmed, unnie.” Hyejin squeezed Jiyoon’s hand before letting go, taking the lead.

“We’re right here with you.” Wheein reassured as well, falling into step beside her best friend. “Just stay with us.”

And with those last few words of encouragement, they stepped off the last stair properly, beginning their walk down to their car together. It was going quite well, Yongsun thought, waving and smiling at the fans. A more excited crowd than they were used to, but that was to be expected.

The eggs were decidedly _un_ expected.

Yongsun saw it coming from the corner of her eye and dodged it just in time, the projectile hitting Jiyoon in the shoulder. Gaping, the leader barely had time to register it before the other one came - and then two more, three. From all sides, eggs were being thrown, and Yongsun instinctively shielded Jiyoon while reaching out for her maknae. Her main goal was to get them to the car immediately, and Yongsun began to run, urging the others to do the same.

(Thankfully they were all wearing sneakers at the time.)

It was chaos outside by the time they made it to the car, slipped inside and shut the door. Wheein was picking shells from her hair, and Hyejin was scowling as she shook off her bag which had taken the brunt of the hits - but it was clear that Jiyoon had taken the worst of it.

“Holy shit, what was that?” Hyejin spat angrily as she peered out the windows. The car was already pulling away by then, leaving them with one last glimpse of the security team crowding around the people, forcing them back from following after. Yongsun wiped egg absentmindedly off her shoulder as she leant out the window to see what she could of the situation before they turned the corner and got out of view completely.

“Are you guys okay?” Their manager asked, and all four of them looked at each other and nodded. Except Jiyoon, who was on the verge of tears.

“They were aiming for me.” The younger woman wasn’t even bothering to clean herself up. “They were chanting my name.”

“Were they?” Yongsun hadn’t been paying attention in her panic. Jiyoon just frowned and turned her face to her window. The others exchanged glances worriedly, but no one really knew what to say.

(Later on, they would learn that some of their former fans had been enraged that they were replacing Byulyi.)

(Those antis were the ones who had turned up tonight, specifically to target Jiyoon.)

(Most of them were arrested but -)

“Hey,” Yongsun eventually spoke up, wanting to comfort. Jiyoon didn’t even turn at Yongsun’s touch to her elbow. “It doesn’t matter what they think. They’ll come around.”

“Don’t treat me like a kid, unnie.” Jiyoon wasn’t shouting at all, which made it worse, somehow. “It doesn’t matter what you guys tell me, or Do Hoon-nim, or the staff. The only opinion that matters is _theirs_ , and they’ll never accept me.” She sounded so bitter about it that Yongsun wanted to wrap her up in her arms and apologise till she was forgiven somehow.

(Even though it wasn’t her fault.)

(Even though it wasn’t really anyone’s fault.)

“Hey now, those people who threw eggs? Aren’t our fans.” Wheein sighed. “If anything, I feel responsible for not expecting it. There must’ve been something we could have done to troubleshoot for this.”

“We didn’t see it coming either,” their manager regretfully spoke up. He kept his gaze on the road, but Yongsun could tell he felt guilty for it. “I promise you, we wouldn’t have let this happen otherwise.”

“It’s a cold comfort for her; it wasn’t RBW they were targeting,” Hyejin couldn’t help but snap. “You knew this wouldn’t be accepted easily. We didn’t even do any proper promos before the comeback to ease people in. Jiyoon got the shit part of the stick, and you know it.” And once again, their maknae had hit the nail on the head. “We need to fix this before it gets any worse.”

And Yongsun wasn’t surprised to feel her heart race between her wrist at the words, wondering how a night that had started so good had ended so bad.

(They’d never really dealt with _seasang_ fans before.)

(Yongsun shuddered as she recalled other stories, other scandals.)

(She couldn’t help but feel exposed despite being in the car.)

No one said another word the rest of the journey, which was probably for the best.

(Yongsun found herself, once again, wishing that Byulyi was here.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda feel bad that the girls are going through so much shit - especially since Yongsun was starting to heal but 
> 
> This was posted on my mobile, and really, really unedited so I would love to know if it has any mistakes and what you think about it!
> 
> Also: the end of Act 2 is nigh! The next chapter will be the last one before we get into Act 3, so in celebration, I’m posting it together :)


	13. 2.6 - the end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you missed it, I posted two new chapters today, so head on to the previous chapter before you read this one!

**2.6**

“You don’t look like you.” Ining said, slouching slightly in her seat. Up close, Yuna could see bags under her eyes, the tired tilt of her mouth. She doesn’t look like she’s slept very much. “Like you used to, I mean.”

“What do you mean?” Yuna had let her sit with some amount of trepidation, but she mostly felt numb. Overwhelmed. “Did you know me? Before?”

“Not personally.” Ining accepted her drink from the owner with a small smile. She waited until he left to continue. “But I knew of you.”

“What?”

“What do you mean, _what_ ?” Ining leaned closer. “Don’t you know?” Her eyes widened when Yuna shook her head. Ining let out a breathy, “ _Shit_ ,” that unsettled Yuna. “That explains so much.”

“Explains _what_?” Mounting anxiety made Yuna snap. “Ever since I woke up, I have had no idea what’s going on. And everyone’s telling me different things that don’t make sense.”

“Like what?” Ining’s eyes sharpened now, her body language shifting to eager. “Tell me what happened to you.”

“No, I won’t.” Yuna was going to get answers, damn it. “Not until you prove you’re not lying to me.”

Ining faltered for a moment – just a moment – before she grinned. “Oh, you’re sharp. I like it. Here,” she dug around in her backpack and pulled out a photo. “Look familiar?”

Yuna gave her a skeptical look before taking the photo, turning it over gently. It was printed on paper, the creases deep enough that it felt soft to the touch. This was something Ining had opened and closed many times, and Yuna blinked as she saw the subject of it.

Because it was her –

(with blonde hair, long and brushing her waist)

And it took a moment, but Yuna saw her face staring back at her.

“That’s me,” she said dumbly, knowing she was stating the obvious.

(The lines of her face were softer here, not as sharp as they’d become from working and eating little.)

(Her skin was tanner now too, from hours in the sun on the fields and mudflats.)

(But that _was_ her.)

“Hey,” Ining said gently, her hand reaching out to touch the back of Yuna’s. It was comforting, suddenly, to have her here. “We’ll sort it out together. I’m here to help.”

“But who _are_ you?” Yuna’s heart was thrumming under her skin now. “Why are you helping me?”

“ _Breathe_.” Ining waited till Yuna had calmed a little before continuing. “Like I said, my name is Tay Ining. I’m a private detective, and someone came to me with a tip about the night you went… missing.” Here she cocked an eyebrow. “Wanna tell me what you remember about that?”

And Yuna – trembling and scared – told her _everything._ In stops and starts, jumping back and forth without chronology. She hadn’t meant to – was only going to tell her about how she didn’t remember anything besides what Lala had told her about her fall – but found that once she’d started speaking, couldn’t stop. Ining, on her part, stayed quiet and attentive, listening and nodding at all the right points, never interrupting. And Yuna was grateful for it, because no one had ever asked for her side of the story.

(Not even Ahjumma, because Lala had told her what she needed to know.)

“And now you’re here.” Ining nodded sympathetically. “And you still don’t know who you are.”

“Yeah.” Yuna swallowed harshly against the lump in her throat. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

Ining eyed her critically, before getting up in one smooth movement. Yuna wasn’t expecting the hug –

(because the only one who really touched her without hesitation was Lala, and, _well_.)

“I’m sorry.” Shocked, Yuna stayed still as Ining wrapped her arms around her waist. “You’ve been through so much.”

And the tears – damn it, the tears – that she’d been fighting back began to fall, and a sob tore itself out her throat and Yuna couldn’t hold it back any longer. Couldn’t pretend that no, no, of course it wasn’t as bad as she said it was. That Yuna had been able to make it through with the help of so many good people.

Because the truth was: it was hard. It was hard and terrifying and _shit_. And Yuna couldn’t bear to pretend anymore.

Pretend that she wasn’t just a scared, confused and lonely girl who still longed for a _real_ family. Her own family.

“I’m sorry,” Yuna hiccuped as she sobbed into Ining’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hush now, it’s okay.” Ining rubbed her hands over her back. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Just let it out. It’s okay.”

And Yuna stayed like that for a long time. Just sobbing.

(And it was a release unlike anything she had ever known.)

\- - - - -

“So… this probably isn’t how you saw this day going, huh?” Ining chuckled lightly as she pushed her empty mug away. She was kind enough to not draw any attention to the wet mark on her shoulder and the sounds of Yuna blowing out her nose into a napkin.

“No,” Yuna couldn’t help but laugh along, her mood lightening. “But I don’t think anyone ever plans to meet someone who can offer them everything they’ve wanted in life.”

“True. No real pre-established modus operandi for that one.” Yuna found herself warming up to Ining now, trusting her and everything she had to say without doubt. To be that forthcoming – Yuna had never had that with Lala.

Which made her think. And her heart sink.

“So… there are people looking for me, right? Or are you the only one?” The photo still sat on the table between them, taunting Yuna with her own face. “I don’t… that doesn’t look like a picture someone I know would take. Like a normal person, I mean.” Stumbling, Yuna picked it up again, and looked at it closer. “Who _was_ I?”

“Your name is Moon Byulyi.” Ining shifted to become more comfortable. “You’re a member of an idol group.” When the phrase didn’t register anything for Yuna, Ining explained. “A singer? Well, a rapper. Anyway, you made music. You were a performer, shall we say.” She scratched her head absently. “Um, excuse me if I don’t know much else about you. I wasn’t really into idol groups and celebrities and stuff.”

“I’m a celebrity?” The word tasted weird on her tongue. “Then how did I go missing?”

“You went over a bridge. The details are a little fuzzy to me, I only know what the news said, and that was so long ago –“

“Lala said there wasn’t any news on me.” Yuna interrupted suddenly, remembering all the reasons Lala had given her. A warmth was beginning to boil in her stomach, her hands shaking. “Was she lying to me?”

Ining paused and took her in. “Yes. Because you were _everywhere_.” Ining kept going, as if she knew Yuna needed to hear it in full. “You were pretty high profile at the time of your… accident. One of the top girl groups, actually. Which meant everyone got involved. Your company, your family, the police. Actually, here.” Ining made to pull up something on her phone, but Yuna closed her eyes, not wanting to see it.

The truth of it didn’t shock her as much as she thought it would. In fact, Yuna didn’t think she was feeling anything at the moment.

“And you’re saying that they looked for me? Like, really looked?” Ining slowly set her phone aside, watching Yuna for a long moment once again. Eventually, she sighed and reached out to take her hand. Her touch was gentle and Yuna latched onto it. She knew she sounded pleading, but she needed to know.

Out of everything, Yuna needed to know that she had mattered.

“Now, I don’t know you. Like I said, I wasn’t really into all that, but. Byulyi –“

“Yuna. My name – that’s what we call me. Now. Yuna.”

“Alright then. Yuna.” Ining nodded understandingly. “You were definitely someone special, because a lot of people rallied around you. Your fans. Your entertainment company is still searching for you. Your members never stopped. They sent patrols out on that river for weeks after.” She offered Yuna a small smile. “You must’ve been someone incredible.”

“Thanks. I think.” Tears pricked at her eyes again, because Yuna felt so _light_.

(And it wasn’t about the compliments at all.)

“Listen, I know we’ve been through a lot in the span of,” Ining checked her watch. “Wow. Forty minutes.” Yuna chuckled, answering Ining’s smile. “But think you can handle a bit more?”

“Yeah, definitely. This is a lot, but.” Yuna pressed her hand to her chest. “But this is so… I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

Ining nodded understandingly. “I need to know about Lala, Yuna. Anything you can tell me about her. Because we need to get you home, but I need to know if it’s safe –“

“It’s fine. She isn’t here.” Yuna shook her head. “She’s meant to come this weekend –“

(She’d come to visit yesterday, and the mere thought of her made Yuna’s heart constrict.)

“Okay. And Yuna, did she hurt you? In any way?” Ining’s eyes bored into hers. “You can tell me.”

“You mean, besides not telling me who I am? No, not physically.”

(Yuna couldn’t tell her about the kisses, the touches.)

(Not yet.)

“Good.” Ining’s expression shifted into puzzlement. “Wait, so where are you living? Are you alone?”

“No.” Yuna pulled her hand away, rubbed the back of her neck. “Lala’s grandmother – Ahjumma. I’m staying with her.” Panic rose in her. “But she’s not involved in any of this, I know it. She’s been taking care of me. I work, and I get food – we take care of each other, really.”

Ining sighed, her entire body sinking with the exhale. “That’s good. I’ll have to meet her first, but I believe you.” Rubbing her face, the private detective clapped her hands after. “Look, I need to make a few calls. Things have been happening back in Seoul, and if everything goes well, we can be back tomorrow.”

Tomorrow? Yuna blinked at that. She could be going back –

“Wait, I can’t leave.” At Ining’s questioning look, Yuna backtracked and stumbled to explain. “I mean, Ahjumma can’t – I sell things. At the market. I can’t leave. Without notice.”

“Don’t you want to go home?” She didn’t sound judgmental, just curious. “I thought you would be – well, excited’s not the right word. But –“

“I am. I mean, I think I am.” And now the feelings were making themselves known, overwhelming her in a strong wave that left her flailing. “But I can’t just leave her – she’s – well, she can take care of herself, but –“

“Yuna, breathe.” Ining reached for her again. “It’s okay, we can wait. But I still need to make my calls. I’ll let you think through all of these, and we’ll see how we can proceed from here, okay? You have a lot of people waiting on you, and, well. Like I said, things have been happening back in Seoul.” Yuna nodded jerkily. Ining’s smile was kind. “Take your time. I’m just gonna go over there to make my call, okay?” She pointed to a ways away by the entrance, leaving herself in Yuna’s sightline. “Think about it, and let me know what you want to do. I reckon you haven’t had much opportunity to make your own choices in a while, huh?”

And Yuna, well. She didn’t really know how to respond to that one.

(It had never crossed her mind that she would ever be given a choice.)

(Especially as of late.)

As Ining got out of her seat, her phone already in her hand, Yuna’s mind raced over her new revelations.

Ining had left the photo, and Yuna picked it up to stare at it. At herself.

She looked so happy – and even though Yuna knew that was probably because she was performing at the time, Yuna didn’t think she could smile that easily anymore. Tracing the photo, she turned her name – her real name – over and over in her head.

Moon Byulyi. She was Moon Byulyi.

(It didn’t seem to fit, in her mind.)

Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she pulled out her own phone and pulled up the internet to type it in to the search bar. Ining had said she was a celebrity – a rapper?

(Mamamoo, was the group name.)

(Moon Byulyi had been part of Mamamoo.)

There were articles on her, filling up page after page. Most were old headlines of her disappearance, her accident on the bridge. Yuna couldn’t bring herself to read them right now, and scrolled down until she found a fanpage for Mamamoo.

She lost her breath for a moment as the page loaded. Because there were photos of her, with three other girls.

(Kim Yongsun. Jung Wheein. Ahn Hyejin.)

(Solar. Wheein. Hwasa.)

Picture after picture of her standing beside them, laughing, smiling. Hugging. And in one photo, kissing.

(Byulyi was affectionate, clearly.)

“I had friends.” Was the first thing she said when Ining came back, still staring dumbly down at the phone screen. “These girls were my friends.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Ining sat in her chair slowly. “And I know they miss you.”

Byulyi pressed the heels of her palm against her eyes. How was it possible for this yawning ache to exist in her chest? This longing and sense of loss for these girls that she’d just learnt about a few minutes ago?

(It was a different ache than the loneliness.)

(Than the ache she felt as she’d stared out at the sea and realized she wanted to die.)

An anger was growing in her, loosing itself in a sob that choked on its way out. Lala. This was all her fault.

Lala had kept her from people who loved her.

(Because she could see it, in these photos.)

(How much Byulyi had loved them.)

(And how much they loved her, in turn.)

“Hey.” Ining didn’t try to reach out again, just waiting for Yuna to look at her. “I know you’re hurting.” She offered a sympathetic smile. “But I need you to hang in there for a while more, okay?”

“Okay, okay.” Yuna wiped at her eyes with another napkin Ining offered her. “So what did they say? Your – whoever you were talking to?”

Ining squared her shoulders. “That was my friend from the police. They’re… glad I’ve found you, but they’ve asked me to do something else for them.” On the road, someone honked their car. Neither paid it any mind. “And this might be really hard, so I won’t do it until I have your okay.”

“What is it?” Yuna felt that anger turn white-hot, sharp now at the prospect of action. Of _something_ to channel it to.

“We’re going to arrest Lala.” Yuna’s heart beat loudly in her ears. “But we can’t do it without your help.”

“I’m ready.” Yuna almost couldn’t recognize the voice as her own. “I want her to pay for what she’s done to me.”

\- - - - - -

Lala hummed under her breath as she got off the train. It had been an annoying train ride, having been sat beside a mother and her screaming son. Lala hated kids precisely for this reason. At one point, the kid had looked at her, and Lala had glared, hoping to intimidate him into silence.

No go.

He’ll learn, she had thought to herself. Crying does nothing in the long run. Didn’t change anything. And one day, crying won’t make his mother come running anymore.

(Won’t make _anyone_ come anymore.)

Lala was excited to see Byulyi today. She had a gift for her – a book on Greek mythology that she’d mentioned wanting to read more of. Lala could already imagine the way Byulyi’s cheeks would flush with pleasure, how she would let Lala kiss her in thanks. Maybe even kiss her first, for once.

(It had taken a while for Byulyi to let Lala kiss her at all.)

(She reminded her of a skittish cat, sometimes.)

(Nervous with touch.)

The sun was hot on the back of her neck as she made her way to Ahjumma’s, on the edge of the small town. People eyed her warily as she passed through the main street, and Lala scoffed to herself about these small-minded people. Everyone was always up in everyone’s business here, and no one had really let her forget that she was the daughter of an abusive man that had been terrible to his parents. Lala grit her teeth at a particularly long stare from a shopkeeper – she had been thirteen when she had first arrived in this town, scared and confused.

But she wasn’t that kid anymore. That kid was long gone.

No one was sitting on the outside porch waiting for her when she arrived at her grandmother’s. Lala found it a little odd, because Byulyi was always there to receive her after she’d made an offhand comment about how happy it made her to know someone was waiting for her.

(Byulyi was so eager to please, all it really took was a suggestion.)

“Ahjumma? Yuna? I’m here!” Lala yelled as she toed her shoes off at the stairs. Focusing on her action, she didn’t realise they had a guest until she looked up. Sat around the small table inside, with cups of tea in front of them, were three people – Ahjumma, Byulyi, and a woman Lala had never seen before. Wary, she slowed, calculating her options.

“Oh hello. I didn’t know we would be having a guest.” Polite. Keep it calm. Byulyi didn’t have friends here – she got on with everyone, but she wasn’t the type to invite people over like this. Lala wouldn’t allow it, but she hadn’t quite phrased it like that.

(“Ahjumma doesn’t like having visitors.”)

“Yeah, this is my friend. Ining.” Lala stopped in the doorway. Byulyi was looking directly at her, but she was different, somehow. She seemed more confident. Bigger. “Do you remember her?”

“We’ve met.” It took a moment for Lala to realise Ining had offered her hand out for a shake. “At your house.”

“What?” Lala looked around for some clue of what was going on, but the only one who would meet her eyes was Byulyi, staring at her with hard eyes.

(Ahjumma was uncharacteristically quiet, her tea untouched.)

“I’ve never seen you in my life.” Lala’s hand was still gripped in Ining’s, clammy under hers. “Who the fuck are you? What’s going on?”

“My name is Tay Ining. I’m a private detective, looking for Moon Byulyi.” Ice crawled up Lala’s spine. “Oh, do you remember me now?”

“It’s all over, Minyoung-ah.” Ahjumma’s soft voice felt like a death knell. “We know the truth.”

No. No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

(She was supposed to give Byulyi her book, was supposed to get a kiss in return.)

(Was supposed to stay the night and have Byulyi to herself this weekend, and the next, and the next till school closed for good for summer and she could come stay the entire month, not just two days at a time.)

(She was supposed to have Byulyi forever.)

Lala understood the shift in Byulyi now. She knew everything.

But it was alright.

(It had to be.)

Lala could salvage this somehow.

(She had to.)

“I’m surprised.” Lala didn’t wrench her hand away from Ining, not really. Pulled it with force, maybe. “How did you find her?”

“Same reason I knocked on your door in the first place. You got sloppy.” Ining drew herself to her full height, her hand hovering by her belt.

(She didn’t have a gun, did she?)

(She couldn’t.)

“I saw you transporting her. The taxi driver who drove you from the river that night tipped me off.” Ining’s smile turned daring, angry. “You know, you might have had more time if you hadn’t tipped us off at all that you’d taken her. I was about to give up.” A laugh forced itself out of Lala’s throat. The package. Of course.

(It had been an angry thing at first.)

(A test, of sorts.)

(Clearly, it had backfired.)

“Why?” Byulyi was standing now, not advancing. But an intimidating figure nonetheless, and the first tendrils of fear began to snake through Lala. She had never seen this expression on Byulyi’s face.

(She had no idea it could even be twisted that way.)

(The curl of her lip, the set jaw.)

(Byulyi’s hands were trembling? Lala couldn’t quite tell.)

“Why?” Lala ignored Ining entirely, choosing instead to plead with Byulyi. She’d saved her. She’d taken care of her. She’d given her a new life that was safer, better. With _her_.

She had to understand, right?

“I did it for you.” Lala took a step forward, but Byulyi made a sound of disgust that stopped her right in her tracks. “It was all for you. I found you that night, and I knew I had to save you. You weren’t happy. You couldn’t have been.”

“I looked pretty damn happy, if I say so myself,” Byulyi sneered. “Yeah, that’s right. I can Google myself. All I needed was a name, Lala. You wouldn’t even give me that.”

“I was trying to protect you!”

“You killed me!” Byulyi lunged forward, barely being held back by Ining’s arm. Ahjumma reached out as well, to keep Lala back, but the former idol wasn’t letting that stop her. “You let everyone think I was dead! My family, my friends! And for what? So you could keep me for your own fucking –“ Here Byulyi broke off, wiping angrily at a tear that escaped her eye. “You didn’t protect anyone. I don’t even know if you were protecting yourself.”

“You know nothing,” Lala shot back. “You would have died on the banks of the river like some sort of common trash if I hadn’t found you, taken you back to my place. I stitched you up, I fed you, I brought you here. I gave you a better life –“

“You gave yourself a better life.” Byulyi sounded so broken now, and Lala froze. “I’m so miserable, Lala. And that’s because of you. _You_ did that.”

A moment passed in tense silence, no one knowing what to say. And when it became clear that Lala had nothing to say

(Nothing she could do.)

to defend herself, Ining cleared her throat and stepped in. “Well, now that that’s out of the way. Kim Minyoung, you are now under arrest for the kidnapping and –“

“I did not kidnap her.” Panic. Distantly, Lala had known that she would face harsh punishment if she ever got caught, but she somehow hadn’t wrapped her head around the concept of going to _jail_.

(Her brother was in jail. Not her.)

(Not Minyoung, who was only thirteen when she became an orphan -)

(On a terrible, stormy night.)

“Minyoung –“

“Get away from me!” She pushed Ahjumma away, who let out a cry as she fell. Lala turned to race out the door, but there were people now, two men who hadn’t been there before – and Lala turned the other way – the back door – she needed to get out, to get there –

“Stop!” Ining was in the way, and Lala felt her rage bubble over. “What are you doing!”

“This is all your fault!” Her hand closed around something – something big? A vase maybe? And she swung her arm around, aiming for the one who’d brought it all crumbling down – this life she’d built, this new reality where everything finally seemed to be going right –

A blur of a body, throwing itself in front of Ining, but Lala couldn’t stop fast enough, the momentum was already there –

A loud crash. A thump as someone fell. A yell. Blood.

There was so much blood.

(Lala would see that blood on her forever.)

(Just like she saw her parents’.)

**End of Act 2.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddddddd we’re at the end of Act 2! Act 3 will obviously be the girls getting back together! 
> 
> Eventually? 
> 
> Anyway, I hope I won’t keep you guys waiting for long for the next update :) As per usual, thank you to everyone who’s still reading this!


	14. 3.1 - the train

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to find out whose blood it was???

**Act 3**

**3.1**

“Yeah, I got it from here, don’t worry.” Ining nodded as she listened to further instructions on the phone, pleased when she finally got to hang up on her friend. Rolling the cricks out in her neck, Ining sighed, letting herself lean on a wall to get out of the way of a passing nurse. She managed a smile at the woman even though she felt exhausted to her very bones. 

It had been a long day 

(had felt like a long day ever since she’d seen Byulyi get carted off in that taxi all those months ago)

and it had seemed like the end was on the horizon earlier that week.    
(Had it only been a week?) 

Now, though? 

Now Ining wondered how many loose ends she was going to get embroiled in. 

Tapping her now quiet phone against her thigh, Ining couldn’t help the sympathy that swelled up in her as she thought of the idol. She’d been through a lot the past few months, and Ining couldn’t even begin to imagine what this latest incident would do to her. 

(She thought of the resilience that had shone in those eyes as they’d sat opposite each other at the cafe, before.)

(She hopes that light hadn’t died out yet.)

Realising she really couldn’t stall any longer, Ining squared her shoulders and headed back to the waiting room. For a small town, the hospital itself was quite well-equipped, as the staff had assured her. They serviced the neighbouring towns as well, and as such, they could offer the highest level of care to the patient. Ining hoped so, for both her own mental wellbeing as well Byulyi’s. 

The idol was exactly where Ining had left her. Hunched over, staring listlessly at the floor. Ining had managed to coax her into washing the blood off her hands -

(Ahjumma’s blood.)

(There had been so much of it.)

(Head wounds always bled the worst, in her experience.)

But Byulyi had steadfastly refused so much as a coffee to calm her nerves as they waited for further news on the older woman. Ining had decided it was best to leave her to her own thoughts as she called in with the police to see if everything else was settled. At least she had good news to share.

“Hey.” Byulyi didn’t respond, but Ining hadn’t expected her to. “Minyoung’s being transported to Seoul in the morning. They have her at the local police station for the night.” Again, nothing. “She’s asked for a lawyer, apparently. So it’s not over yet, but it’s a good start.” 

Byulyi’s shoulders trembled as she exhaled shakily, her head lowering. “That’s good.” Ining winced when she heard how raspy and dry Byulyi’s voice was. 

“Sure I can’t get you anything to drink, kiddo? They’ll call us first thing when they’re done with the surgery.” 

“No.” Byulyi coughed to clear her throat. “I’m good.” 

_ You’re stubborn _ , is what Ining wanted to say, but she held her tongue. From what little she’d seen, Ahjumma and the woman had been close, so this was probably the appropriate reaction from her. Instead, Ining lowered herself into the seat next to Byulyi, wiggling to find the most comfortable spot to take a nap. The plastic chairs in hospitals were the worst.

“You don’t have to stay, you know?” Ining didn’t open her eyes, not wanting to somehow unsettle the other woman. “I’m sure you have a proper bed waiting for you.”

“And leave you to wait alone? No way. I’ve been where you’ve been,” Ining scratched idly at her elbow. “It’s not really fun.”

Byulyi shifted, but didn’t say anything else. Ining stifled a yawn as she settled in. “You don’t mind if take a quick nap, do you?” 

“No, go ahead.” And Ining started to doze off, not really sleeping, but not quite awake either. She’d been run ragged all day. They’d been here for two hours already, and Ining was pretty sure Ahjumma - if she even made it out of surgery - would be warded for the night, at the very least. She would take the rest while she had the time right now.

(She would’ve advised Byulyi to do the same, except she was pretty sure she’d be ignored.)

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Byulyi’s soft question jolts Ining back to wakefulness, the jarring awakening giving her a passing headache. “Ahjumma, I mean.”

A beat. Ining sighed. “I honestly don’t know, kiddo.” Ining didn’t want to get her hopes up in case things went south. That would have been worse than being honest now. “Head wounds are tricky, and at her age.”

“I didn’t know she was going to throw herself in front of you like that.” Byulyi looked truly shaken by the events of the afternoon, and Ining felt a stab of guilt as well. If she had just called in the backup earlier, maybe it wouldn’t have happened that way. 

(But they needed a confession -)

(And Byulyi needed some sort of closure -)

(And, well. Everyone fucked up somewhere.)

“Trust me, neither did I.” Ining had been well-prepared to take the hit - the stone Buddha would have hit her on the shoulder anyway, and the worst it would have done would have been a killer bruise and maybe a cut. But the older woman had surprised them all by protecting Ining with her own body. Unfortunately she was much smaller than Ining was. “I’m going to give her a good talking to when she wakes up.” 

Byulyi seemed comforted by the use of ‘when’ and not ‘if’ -

(of the certainty of the possibility)

Enough to chuckle slightly. “Oh, I’d be careful around her. She has the sharpest tongue of anyone I know. You might regret it.”

“I grew up on tough love and a stubborn mother. I think I can handle her.” Ining winked, feeling warmer at the thought of it. She should probably call her mother at some point. She missed her. 

Her joke seemed to settle Byulyi enough for Ining to fall back into her doze, lulled by the steady sounds of people hustling through A&E and the ringing of phones. She thinks, at one point, Byulyi even settles in on the seat next to her, and Ining hides her smile. 

Eventually, Ining got jostled awake by an elbow to the face, her hand instinctively going to her belt where her gun used to be. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Byulyi was energetic now, her hands fretting as she tried to make sure Ining was okay. “I just - they just said we could go see Ahjumma now, so -”

Ining went back on full alert immediately. “Alright, alright. Let’s go.” Ining was glad to hear that the woman had pulled through, but she wasn’t about to relax until they knew for a fact she was in the clear. Still, she couldn’t deny that it felt easier to breathe.

(She always got too attached.)

(That’s part of what had made her both a good and bad detective.)

The staff had put Ahjumma in a bed in the ICU. Ining tried to keep up a light chatter to stop Byulyi from looking around too much - she knew how bleak this place could be. She didn’t try to stop the other woman from rushing the patient on the bed when they got to 1C, though, pleased to see Ahjumma propped up on pillows with a tired expression on her face. 

“Ahjumma!” 

“Ah, keep your voice down. So the old lady survived; no need to get all excited about it.” Byulyi didn’t seem turned off by the words, perched on the side of Ahjumma’s bed and clasping her hand in hers. “And  _ you’re _ still here.” Ining tipped her head in acknowledgement. “Sorry about the trouble.” 

“Well, you saved me from a nasty bruise, so I guess we’re even.” Ining pulled up a chair and sat close to the two. “Although maybe that wasn’t the best idea, hmm?” 

Ahjumma scoffed. “At my age, bad ideas don’t mean much anymore.” Byulyi made a noise of distress, and Ahjumma raised an eyebrow. “Don’t fuss, Yuna-ah. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Byulyi was staring straight at the bandage around Ahjumma’s head. “You got hurt! Really hurt.” Her voice dropped, and suddenly she wouldn’t look at anyone anymore. Ining’s heart clenched. “I thought you’d died.”

Ining exchanged a glance with the older woman in the bed. Ahjumma, seemingly contrite now, freed up one of her hands to gently ruffle the idol’s hair. “Ah, if I survived this long being as impulsive as I did - then I’ll survive a bit more. Besides,” Ahjumma’s smile turned sly. “I’ve never been a good Buddhist anyway.” 

Ining snorted a laugh. “Well, I think it would do Yuna’s heart a lot more good if you didn’t pull heroic stunts anymore. That’s kinda more my thing.” 

“But will you be around forever?” Ining blinked. “You’ll just drop her in Seoul and leave, won’t you?” They’d explained the situation to her the day Ining had met Byulyi, and as much shock as she’d been in at the discovery that her granddaughter had done something so… unbelievable, the older woman had come around quick as the evidence stacked up against her. And while, at first, she’d been skeptical of Ining’s help and promises, she’d seemed to be warming up to the detective. At least a little. 

But Ining guessed the older woman was more protective of Yuna than anyone had thought. 

“I wouldn’t just disappear, of course.” Ining’s stomach churned slightly. “Ahjumma… Lala’s asked for a lawyer. This case will be taken to court. Honestly, it would have been presented at court whether Lala had asked for a lawyer or not…”

“I understand.” For the first time since Ining had met her, Ahjumma seemed small. “I didn’t expect anything less.” Byulyi shifted closer, her hand squeezing around the older woman’s. “When is it going to be, do you know?” Ining swallowed and shook her head. “Ah, well. You’ll keep me updated, won’t you?” 

“Of course. Mostly, it’ll depend on how quickly the news breaks of her return.” Ining nodded towards Byulyi, who looked confused. “You’ll need to get a lawyer too, of course. I could recommend you some I trust, they’re good. But I’m sure your entertainment -”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Byulyi’s eyes were wide now, looking in between Ahjumma and Ining. “I’m not going anymore. I can’t.” The way she said it sounded like a question, and Ahjumma hopped in with a “Of course, you can.” 

“No, I can’t.” Byulyi’s brows furrowed together. “I can’t just leave her! Not like this.”

Ining frowned. “I get where you’re coming from, but I’m meant to bring you back so you can give your statement and we can process Lala right away.”

“Can’t we do that here?” Byulyi was becoming more agitated, worrying Ining some. This was unprecedented. The Byulyi from earlier in the week seemed more than eager to go home - this? 

(Byulyi’s hand, wrapped tight around Ahjumma’s hand, careful of the tubes.)

(Ahjumma’s face, her eyes half-lidded, the bandages stark around her head.)

(The beeping of the monitors telling them she was alive. Still here.)

Ining wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was.

“Look,” she sighed, getting up out of her chair. “I’m going to leave you two to… talk about this a little.” Ining tried to smile understandingly. “You can come find me later, Yuna. I’ll just be outside, getting some coffee.” 

Tilting her head one last time at Ahjumma in thanks, Ining walked away, feeling the same weight settle on her shoulders once again. She didn’t want to force the other woman, but if the idol didn’t come back soon…

Well. 

\- - - - - 

Ahjumma doesn’t waste time. The moment Ining was gone from view, she turned back to Yuna and said, “Well?” 

Yuna couldn’t help but squirm under that gaze. “I can’t leave you. Not like this. You’re injured, because of me, and -”

“And what?” Ahjumma inhaled, coughing slightly. Yuna reached over and offered her some water from the jar on the bedside table. “You being here would be very nice, but it won’t help me heal. The nurses tell me I should be fine.”

“Did they actually?” Yuna challenged. Ahjumma rolled her eyes. “Ahjumma.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, you rascal.” There was no heat in her tone. “They’re going to keep me in here to monitor for the next week, but if I survive this night, I’ll survive the rest.” She pointed up to her head. “There’s some swelling there that they’re worried about. Makes me all the more impressed that my crazy granddaughter managed to keep you alive after all that.”

Yuna bit her bottom lip, ducking her head away. Ahjumma, sensing she’d hit a nerve, patted the back of Yuna’s hand. “Ah, but I’m a batty old woman. Don’t listen to me.”

“I don’t want to leave you, Ahjumma. You’ve done so much for me -”

“All I’ve done was made sure you ate and had a place to sleep. And I made you work for it, as well.” Ahjumma’s voice was gentler now, almost like how she sounded when she spoke about her husband. Fuller, somehow. “You don’t owe me  _ anything _ . In fact, I should be thanking you. You’ve been a welcome distraction for this old lady.” 

“But -”

“No buts.” Yuna expected Ahjumma to ruffle her hair again, but instead she patted her on the shoulder. “I know it’s scary, leaving.” Ahjumma tilted her head. “I could never do it. Uproot myself from here and go to the city. But you won’t be alone.” She sounded unsure of that, and Yuna swallowed, shaking her head. 

“Ining-nim said I had a family.” She was still in awe of that. “And I had friends. I’ve seen them.” 

“I’m glad.” Ahjumma smiled at her. “You deserve those things, Yuna-ah.” Yuna beamed at her in return, and then a thought struck her. 

“She said my real name was Moon Byulyi.” Ahjumma hummed. “But I don’t know if I would ever - I mean, I’ve been Yuna for so long now, it doesn’t -”

“You can be whoever you want to be.” Ahjumma interrupted. “Do you like the name Yuna? If so, then you should keep it.” 

Yuna deliberated that. “I suppose I will. I just… I don’t know who that other girl is. And I don’t know if I can be her.” The  _ yet _ was left unsaid. 

(Overshadowed by  _ if ever _ .)

“Well, whatever you decide, you rascal.” Ahjumma lay back in her pillows for real now, her eyelids drooping. “Just be sure to let this old lady know. It might take me awhile to get used to calling you something else - old dogs and new tricks and all that.” 

Yuna felt warmth bloom in her heart for this sassy old lady, and everything she’d done for her. 

(She thought of days spent on the mudflats and in the fields, of evenings spent with tea and conversations, of gentle hair ruffles and occasionally annoyed commentary.)

(Yuna would never be able to repay this woman.)

“And will you be okay with that?” Yuna had to ask this last question, as loathe as she was to disturb the older woman. “Sorry.”

(And maybe the real question she wanted to ask this woman was  _ would you forgive me for wanting this? _ )

(But Ahjumma had said she didn’t owe her anything at all.)

“Ah, as long as you’re happy.” Ahjumma’s voice was quieter now, already slurring with sleep. “Maybe it’s better you go after all. A woman can’t get any rest with all these questions you keep asking.” 

And Yuna had to laugh, encouraged by the sight of a smile curving Ahjumma’s lips. 

(And maybe the smile had grown when Yuna leaned in to kiss the woman’s cheeks.)

(The way she’d seen countless mothers do their children.)

(It didn’t feel like a goodbye.)

(Not one that would have stuck, at least.)

\- - - - - 

Yuna hadn’t been to the train station since she’d arrived at this town. Never really had any reason to, and now that she stood there on that platform, Yuna realised that she might have been too afraid to. 

“I got our tickets. We’re on the 2.43pm train.” Ining waved the tickets around as she returned from the ticketing desk. Sensing Yuna’s mood, the detective tilted her head and took a seat next to her. “You okay, kiddo?” 

“Yeah, I just… the first time I was here, I thought I was going to find a new life.” Yuna rubbed at the back of her neck absently, taking in the tracks and the few passengers waiting for their trains. “It’s just… sad that I’m doing it again.”

“I understand.” Ining exhaled deeply, looking around like Yuna had. “When I first came to this country, I thought the same thing. I wondered if I would find people who got me, who I could eventually call friends. If it would all be worth it in the end.” Yuna had thought of those things as well, but one nagging thought wouldn’t leave her mind. 

“What if they don’t like me?” It sounded silly to say it aloud, especially when Ining turned to her with questioning eyes. “My family, I mean. And my friends. What if they don’t - I’m not the same person they knew.” 

“Then they’ll have to get to know this you.” Ining shrugged. “I mean, it’s not the same - it’s not a fresh start, not really, but you can make it into one. And I’m sure your people will love you just the same. You’re not any different to them, I don’t think.” Ining tapped her head with a smile. “Call this detective’s intuition.” 

Yuna laughed. “I hope you’re right.” Because the alternative was a little more nerve-wrecking. 

Yuna wasn’t sure how she’d be received, but she had to choose not to dwell on it. Ahjumma had said pretty much the same thing, even threatening to come down and talk some sense into them if they so much as said a word out of line. “Once I’m better, of course,” Ahjumma had mumbled, wincing as she took the few steps up into the house. They’d discharged her with a clean bill of health at the end of the week, and Yuna had made sure to stay long enough to see that happen. 

(The house had been eerily quiet without the older woman’s presence.)

(It seemed to breathe differently, even.)

“Maybe I’ll bring them down here, instead. Save you the trip.” Yuna helped settle her into the new bed they’d gotten her, instead of the thin mattress she’d been sleeping on for all this time. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you offered, you rascal. For a moment I thought you’d actually make me go to the  _ city _ .” Yuna laughed at the way Ahjumma said ‘city’. “Now, stop fussing so much and make us a pot of tea. I’m going to need a drink with my medicine.” 

And Yuna had been grateful that despite everything, her relationship with this woman had remained intact. 

(Neither brought up Lala or the circumstances that had brought them together.)

(There didn’t seem to be much to say.)

They heard the train come thundering down the track before they saw it. Ining glanced at it and then at her, tilting her head as if to ask ‘are you ready?’ 

And Yuna, inhaling deep, stood. 

(Somewhere, at the end of the train line, her new life awaited.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anddddd we're in Act 3! I know a lot of you were thinking it was Byulyi that got hit at the end of that chapter, and a couple of you hoped she would get back her memories that way, but -
> 
> Every time I read these amnesia fics, I find it a little too convenient. I mean, I get why - we're always gonna root for the characters to be happy and whole again. But this fic is so much about being whole, or finding a way to be whole, despite the circumstances that I almost felt like it would have been a disservice to Byulyi-as-Yuna to do that. I'm curious as to what you guys think about that, by the way. Do let me know in the comments, if you feel like it :)
> 
> Once again, thanks everyone for sticking with this, and to everyone who has joined this crazy journey. As you can see, we have so many loose ends to tie up - and I can promise this much: OT4 reunion is coming realllll soon.


	15. 3.2 - the meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this one is just as good! Was excited to just get it out, so it's really rough, but -

**3.2**

 To say the mood was sour was an… understatement. Do Hoon was pacing the room, while the rest of the girls watched on. Wheein looked visibly upset, Hyejin was scowling, and Jiyoon? Jiyoon just looked more resigned than Yongsun had ever seen her.

(Even more than at the end of that first ever rehearsal she had with them.)

“How did it get to this? I didn’t think it would…”

“With all due respect, sir.” Hyejin sighed, crossing her legs under her. “I think they just never got a chance to get to know Jiyoon.” She sounded tired - but then again, so were the rest of them. This was one of their rare gaps of time between promo schedules, and Yongsun was craving her bed something fierce.

The situation hadn’t escalated since that night two weeks ago. In fact, it seemed to have just settled into this weird new status quo with the antis on one side, and their real fans on the other. Both camps were on very different ends of the spectrum - one thought that Mamamoo wasn’t really Mamamoo without their original rapper; and the other didn’t mind that Jiyoon was there. In fact, the latter celebrated the new things that Jiyoon had brought to the group, which the members were all grateful for. The new song had garnered one win so far, which was unlike their previous long streaks, but more than they had wished for with this comeback.

“I know. I know, and that was my fault.” Do Hoon rubbed his face as he finally, finally stood still. “We should have done more. We could have done so much more.”

Wheein glanced at Jiyoon, who was listlessly picking at a nail. “To be fair, fan reactions are the one thing we never have control over.” Yongsun knew she was trying to cheer him up, but she still had to hold back a snort. Hyejin was right, and they all knew it. As she had said in the car before - they’d fucked up, and now they needed to fix it.

“Let’s focus on what we can do now.” Yongsun had spent a lot of time thinking about it. “We can’t just continue like nothing had happened. Maybe VLives, some MamamooTV with more Jiyoon screentime. Or get us on _Idol Room_. She has to earn their trust.”

“What if we did a part swap in the next performance? Let Jiyoon take over lead rap and more vocal parts?” Hyejin suggested. “Most of the antis seem to believe she has no talent - we know otherwise.” Jiyoon had flinched at the comment - and everyone noticed. “We can’t just keep selling the idea that she’s a part of this group because the company put her there - she has to prove it to everyone else too. Especially considering our branding.”

(BeLisMamoo.)

(It used to be a source of pride for everyone. Not pain.)

“Yeah, and put her on _King of Masked Singer_. That’ll gain a lot of trust.” Yongsun stared at Do Hoon, who was just staring blankly at them. “Do Hoon-nim? Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He shook his head distractedly. “Yes, of course. Those are all good suggestions. Let’s keep them coming.” He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. “I have to take this call, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, it’s not just me, right? Do Hoon’s been off the ball lately?” Wheein stared at the door that had closed behind him with a frown. “Usually he’s all over us during comebacks.”

“Something’s off.” Yongsun couldn’t ignore it any longer. “I’m going to go talk to him.” As the leader, she would have to be the one. Wheein gave her a thumbs up, while Hyejin just nodded. Yongsun would have stepped out immediately if she hadn’t noticed Jiyoon still quiet and unresponsive at the table.

“Hey.” Yongsun wasn’t good with giving comfort, but she could do this. “I promise it’ll be okay. You’ll see.” Jiyoon looked at her but didn’t say anything. Wheein shooed her out silently, assuring her without words that they would take care of it.

(Yongsun was grateful they’d patched up again.)

(Things weren’t the same, but in the best way possible.)

“Do Hoon-nim,” Yongsun called out when she saw the man standing at the end of the hallway, his eyes glued to his phone. “Do Hoon-nim, pardon my rudeness, but we really need to talk.”

The CEO looked up as she came closer, but Yongsun saw that he was in a daze. Like someone had just pulled all the air from him. Frowning, Yongsun’s earlier indignation was quickly replaced with worry. “Do Hoon-nim?”

He looked like he’d seen a ghost. “What?”

“Are you okay?” She nearly waved a hand in front of his face to see if that would snap him out of it, but knew it wouldn’t be appreciated. “You look…”

“I just…” Do Hoon trailed off. It took another beat before he suddenly snapped to, and Yongsun could practically the wheels in his brain turning before he said, “Yes, Yongsun. I’m fine, thank you for the concern.”

“Are you sure? Because -”

“I’m fine.” Do Hoon shook his head slightly, which worried Yongsun even more, but she knew a dismissal when she heard one. “What did you want to talk about?”

“It’s about Jiyoon.” Yongsun wanted to cross her arms when talking to him. She wished she hadn’t been beaten out of that habit as a child. “I think she deserves an apology at least, from the company. It’s been hard for her so far, and right now it seems like you don’t even care that it happened.” She knew she was speaking really plainly now, but Yongsun had never been very good at sugarcoating things. “Please, Do Hoon-nim. You need to give her some hope. Tell her she deserves to be in the group, at least. Tell her -”

“Yongsun.” His tone was dangerous now, and Yongsun knew she had stepped over a line. “I can’t be babying you guys forever. You girls need to toughen up - I’ve been understanding of the circumstances up till this point, but I’m sorry. This comeback needed to happen, or else Mamamoo would never have come back, and you girls would have had no choice but to disband -”

“Maybe we wanted that.” Yongsun’s gaze bore into him. “Maybe it would have been better if we had disbanded, or come back under a different name. Did you ever think to ask us what we thought?” Yongsun sighed as Do Hoon looked stunned. “I’m not saying we would definitely have decided to disband, but with the way things had been at that time… it might’ve gone a different way. A better way.” Yongsun knew she would have been happy to disband if it meant she wouldn’t have had to be in the same room as Wheein at all - she had been that much of a coward. “But now we’re stuck with this. And what do we do about it?”

Do Hoon hesitated, before seeming to crumble under himself. “You would’ve disbanded?” His voice was small now, unsure. Yongsun’s heart ached for him. “I don’t understand. How could you -”

“We weren’t Mamamoo without Byulyi. We hadn’t been that for so long.” Yongsun leant on the wall next to him, looking back down the corridor to where she’d come from. “But I’m glad we didn’t now. So maybe there is a silver lining to this whole situation.”

Do Hoon was quiet for a long moment. “Jiyoon must hate me.” This was a statement she would never have expected from him. “She must hate this whole situation.” He rubbed his face. “I’ve gone about this all wrong, haven’t I?”

“It wouldn’t have turned out this way if we’d all made different decisions.” This much Yongsun would admit. “It’s not just on you. But now we can’t dwell on things like blame.”

“You’re right.” Do Hoon let out a long exhale. “Can I speak plainly?” Yongsun tilted her head as she waited. “Some days I wonder if I should just give up. Hand you girls over to someone else. Someone who could really guide the group to where it needed to be.” Do Hoon somehow managed a hollow smile. “But then I think about it some more, and I can’t. Couldn’t.”

“We couldn’t let you do that either.” Yongsun shook her head. “I managed to work things out with Wheeinie, and that had seemed impossible, so long ago. So if that managed to happen then. We can work through this together, don’t you think?” She leveled him with a long gaze. “But that can’t happen without you. Mamamoo isn’t just the four of us onstage. Mamamoo is everyone from this company. And you.”

Do Hoon paused for a moment before laughing. “You’re right, you’re right. Thank you, Yongsun-ah.” Yongsun just nodded. Do Hoon looked at her appraisingly. “You girls continue to surprise me every day. You’ve truly given me something to hope for. I hope you know that.” And something made Yongsun think he was talking about something else entirely -

(something in the tone of his voice)

(or the lightness of his expression)

but she wasn’t allowed to dwell on it when Do Hoon straightened his shoulders in determination, pocketing his phone.

“Right,” he said, holding out his arm to lead the way back to the meeting room. “There’s a lot to be done. After you?”

And Yongsun, with a nod, led the way.

\- - - - -

There was something to be said for the refuge of a home. Even though the girls had all gotten apartments near each other, they didn’t come over to each other’s homes that often, each respecting each other’s space and privacy. That being said -

Parties were always held at Hyejin’s.

“Alright, now that we’ve survived this comeback cycle, I think we all deserve a drink.” Wheein held up her cup, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Yongsun made sure to keep her eye right on the object in her hand, and not the camera just over her shoulder. “Everyone, raise your cups, come on.”

Yongsun pressed hers against the rest, the low alcoholic drink a stark contrast from the mixed drinks the other girls had. Jiyoon’s arm brushed against hers, and Yongsun glanced over to check in on her. She seemed fine so far, and Yongsun hoped that this gamble paid off.

Wheein landing her own _I Live Alone_ episode after Hyejin did was nothing short of a miracle. The company had really cashed in quite a few of their favours with the producers of the show, who were eager to recreate another sensation that Hyejin’s did - but knew the chances were slim. However, when the company had pitched that this would be Mamamoo’s first reality tv appearance since the incident at the bridge, they had caved on the caveat that a scene with all the girls together happened.

(Which was exactly what they wanted to happen.)

(They were just lucky the studio thought that they were the ones asking for a favour.)

“So, what should we do?” Wheein asked, automatically turning to Hyejin. “Should we play games?”

“I didn’t bring my cards,” Hyejin pouted apologetically. “I didn’t think that far ahead, sorry.”

“It’s okay. We could…” Yongsun casted her gaze around for something to do, spying a tent in the corner where Ggomo was resting. “Wheein-ah, why do you have that tent?”

“Oh? Ah, I was going to go camping next week. Since we have a bit of a break.” She reached over to pull it closer. “It’s a really big one too, which the owner said was a bit much -”

“Considering there’s not much of you to put in there,” Jiyoon piped up suddenly, causing a few laughs. “Don’t be mad, Wheeinie.”

“Yah, you’re shorter than me, so you’re one to talk.” And it was true. By 1cm.

(At least that unofficial rule seemed to have survived.)

“Ah!” Yongsun suddenly thought of something fun they could do. “Should we do that? Build a fort with the tent on the roof and hang out there?” Like Hyejin, Wheein also lived in a rooftop apartment building. But unlike Hyejin, Wheein actually had somewhat of a good view. The other members seemed to think it was a good idea too, and quickly, everyone began to move.

It took some actual logistics to get it going, especially with regards to audio. But they managed to settle down some time later, just inside the mouth of the tent with the flap rolled back. Yongsun grinned as she watched her members lounge inside on the blankets and sleeping bag Wheein had. They’d even strung up the fairy lights from Wheein’s living room on the inside, to give them enough light to show up on camera.

“Yay…!” Yongsun cheered, giving herself a literal pat on the back. “Good job, Yongsun-ah. I’m just full of good ideas.”

“Sometimes, unnie.” Hyejin didn’t miss a beat, and they devolved into yet another round of bickering as Wheein and Jiyoon joined in, the show’s mascot Wilson dutifully cradled in the latter’s arms. Yongsun would have to take it from her eventually, just to make sure she got some actual footage taken of her.

(Jiyoon had become increasingly camera-shy after the incident.)  
(They were still working on it.)

“Ah, we haven’t done this in a while, haven’t we?” Wheein piped up, playing with the tab on her beer can. “When I was promoting as a solo artist - I used to think about this a lot.”

“Me too.” Yongsun caught the vocalist’s eye across from her. “I used to remember our times living together. It was so chaotic.”

“I don’t miss those days!” Wheein laughed. “We were so broke!”

“Really?” Jiyoon leaned in. “I can’t imagine it, somehow.”

“Ah, we were trainees and rookies just like you, Jiyoon-unnie.” Hyejin sipped at her drink. “We were really poor back then.”

“All our money went into paying the company back. We didn’t want that debt hanging over our heads.” Their company had given them a choice - a larger cut of each month’s profits, but a longer time to pay off their debt; or a smaller cut that made it quicker to pay it off. The girls had thought about it long and hard and decided, as a group, to pay the debt off quickly. It was partly why they were so determined to do as many festivals as possible in those early days, even though it was definitely the harder option. “It was worth it though. Now we can actually all afford to buy food comfortably.”

“Oh my god, remember when we used to have to eat bread with mayonnaise on it because it was the only thing we could afford?” Yongsun groaned as she remembered that. “You’re right; I don’t miss those days at all.”

“I’ve never been able to look at mayonnaise the same since.” Hyejin shuddered. “It’s traumatised me.”

They shared a few more stories of those days with Jiyoon, trading them for some of her experiences as a trainee. They were surprised to hear that she was still rooming with some of the other trainees even though she was part of their group now.

“I haven’t paid my debt off yet, remember?” She seemed chagrined to say it aloud. “It… well, it makes it harder.”

Yongsun made a noise of understanding. “I can imagine. Does it get uncomfortable? Especially with our comeback?”

“I mean, we’re all friends!” Jiyoon said, her hands gesturing wildly. “They’re all awesome people, and in another life, I probably would have debuted with them. But it just feels like I’m on a completely different path than them, now. Like there’s the version of me that they knew as a trainee - that was with them almost from the beginning, when I was the new kid. But now,” her voice dropped, turned somber. “Now it feels like I’m the new kid all over again. But this time, the room’s not as friendly.”

It was the the closest they’d come to acknowledging the egg incident so far that night, and while Yongsun knew that was partially the reason they’d wanted to do this appearance in the first place, Yongsun couldn’t help but feel her heart tug - as it always did - whenever Jiyoon mentioned it.

(Do Hoon had ended up apologising those weeks ago.)

(Jiyoon hadn’t said anything, but she’d at least managed to smile.)

(A small one, but it was a start.)

“To be honest with you, we weren’t happy that you were joining us in the first place.” Yongsun felt like it had to be her that shared this confession. “We kicked up such a fuss when Do Hoon-nim said that was what was going to happen. Hyejin nearly chased him down to get him to change his mind.” The memory of that argument made the original members chuckle. “But then Wheeinie -”

(And here, Yongsun found Wheein was looking right back at her.)

“She spoke up.” Yongsun reached out to leave her hand on Jiyoon’s knee. “She let us give you a chance, at least. And now that we’ve come this far, I think none of us here -” And Yongsun didn’t even have to check in with the other girls to see their confirmations. “ - think you don’t deserve to be here.”

And it took a minute, because Jiyoon was a quiet person by nature -

(So much more the opposite, to Byulyi)

That when she started to cry, the rest almost missed it. Because it wasn’t a sob, or a wail, or even a small hiccup. It was a single tear that ran down her cheek -

(that she tried to hide)

(tried to wipe away)

That was quickly followed by a bunch more, all of them creating steady streams to drip off her jaw. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she mumbled thickly, burying her head in her knees as the other members began to panic. “I don’t mean to be a crybaby, not like this -”

But Yongsun was the one that reached her first, because Wheein was too far away, and Hyejin was putting down her drink to free up an arm -

And Jiyoon was warm against Yongsun’s side -

(And Yongsun wondered if this action brought Jiyoon comfort the way it always did to Yongsun when Byulyi used to do it?)

(It took her a moment to remember how it felt to have Byulyi’s arm around her shoulders, her waist.)

“It’s okay.” Yongsun accepted the tissues Wheein held out to her and used it to dab at Jiyoon’s eyes. It was easy to forget that Jiyoon was only a year younger than her sometimes, considering how much teaching the group had had to do since her arrival. Jiyoon had never complained, or pointed it out, or asked to be treated a different way. Yongsun had to admire her strength. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I feel so guilty.” Jiyoon tried to hide her face again, but Yongsun wouldn’t let her. When it became clear the rest were looking for an explanation, Jiyoon sniffled and regained enough of her composure to speak. “Because it makes me happy to hear that. But I can’t help but think of how much I miss Byulyi-ssi.”

Everyone went still.

(Forgetting the camera -)

(Forgetting the scene - )

(Forgetting everything.)

“We weren’t friends or anything. We didn’t know each other. At all. But I admired her so much.” And Jiyoon had mentioned of course, that she was a fan before joining. But Yongsun had never dreamed it had been to this extent. “When she died, I cried for a whole week.” Jiyoon sounded so sad, Yongsun almost didn’t want to hear it.

(She didn’t want to.)

(It hurt, in the center of her chest that was almost done healing.)

(It picked at the edges of the wound that Yongsun didn’t have a handle on for so long.)

(Burrowed itself in till Yongsun had to focus on _breathing_.)

“Jiyoon-ah -”

“Jiyoon-unnie -”

“Please -”

“And I know what people are saying - of course I know. They’re saying I’m not good enough, that I’ll never replace Byulyi - and they’re right, they’re right, and I don’t want to - I miss her so much, and I would be happy -”

“Stop it!” Hyejin was standing now, staring at her with eyes so wide and wet that Yongsun was frozen. “You stop talking right now!”

(She was breathing so hard, her shoulders shook.)

(Yongsun could hear it - the rattle of it as it entered, the way Hyejin seemed to choke on it as she made to speak.)

“We all hurt when Byul-unnie - when she was gone. We all did.”

(And absently, Yongsun wondered if this would air.)

(Was aware of Wilson’s eyes on her, on them, on this moment - fragile as it was.)

“But we all have to move on, because Byul-unnie would want us to.” Hyejin was calming now, gentling, kneeling in front of Jiyoon. “Do you know what sort of person Byul-unnie really was?” Jiyoon shook her head, stunned into silence. “She was kind. She was always thinking about other people. If she saw you crying, she would have been the first one to hand you a tissue.”

“Byul-unnie was always the person I could talk to about music.” Wheein spoke next, quiet still because that was all the situation called for. “Whenever I was really depressed and couldn’t even think about singing, or writing, or performing, she would be there and talk me through it. Or take me out to take my mind off it, but she would always have some advice for me. I even wrote a song about her. It’s not finished, but -” The vocalist sighed, pulling at the hem of her jeans. “Byul-unnie would have been pleased that I never gave up at the thing I loved.”

And Yongsun knew it was her turn now, the moment calling for it despite the burn in her throat -

(the sting in her eyes)

“Byulyi was always the person by my side.” Yongsun couldn’t look at any of them. “I still turn to talk to her. As if she’s still there, sometimes.” And that simple confession, she knew, spoke volumes about their relationship.

“Byul-unnie was a special person,” Hyejin’s voice was breathy and full of emotion. “We all miss her, and we’re not the only ones. So thank you, Jiyoon-unnie. For remembering her. And reminding us.” The woman looked at their maknae with wide eyes. “Byul-unnie was loved by so many people. And we haven’t forgotten her either, but you have to believe us when we say -” And Hyejin couldn’t continue, choking up enough that Wheein had to take over, her hand resting on her best friend’s back.

“Byul-unnie would have been glad that you joined us when you did. Because otherwise we would never have gotten ourselves together enough to make music again. Together.” And Wheein looked meaningfully at Yongsun, and Yongsun was looking right back at her, once again.

And for a moment,

(long enough for everyone to feel it)

(for it to have been impossible for it to be anything else)

It was like Byulyi was really there with them again.

(Yongsun didn’t have to think as hard to remember how it felt to have her close this time.)

(Her warmth, the softness of her -)

(Yongsun could never forget.)

\- - - - - -

“Unnie,” Seulgi’s voice was thick in her ear, and had nothing to do with the late hour.

(Yongsun knew she’d seen _it_.)

(Yongsun herself had staunchly avoided the television all evening, instead burrowing into her sheets with the curtains closed.)

“Hi.” In the dark, everything was still. The only light had been from her phone, but even that faded away as the screen dimmed on Seulgi’s name.

A shaky breath. “That must’ve been so hard.”

“It was alright.” Yongsun managed a laugh. “It’s what I do in therapy all the time. What we’ve all done in therapy.” In fact, Yongsun mostly just felt _tired_. She didn’t even want to look what the internet was saying. Tonight, at least, Yongsun just wanted to sleep. To ignore all these signs of life that were barrelling on without her.

Just tonight.

“How are you feeling?” Yongsun hadn’t been sure if Seulgi would have called. But she was glad she did.

“Sad. Happy. Overwhelmed.” Seulgi had to be crying. Yongsun was sure of it. “I don’t know how to describe it. But it feels so warm, unnie.” A pause. “Is that okay?”

“That’s perfectly fine.” And Yongsun remembers asking her therapist this exact question -

(After she managed to finally -)

( _Finally_ -)

( - pack away some of Byulyi’s things from her apartment.)

“Okay. Okay, that’s good.” Another pause. “I love you, unnie.”

And Yongsun - she had to smile at that. In the darkness, she picked up her phone and thumbed the screen, the photo of her and Byulyi smiling up at her bright against her eyes.

“I love you too, Seulgi-ah.”

(That warmth that Seulgi was talking about -)

(Yongsun felt it too.)

\- - - - -

Jiyoon wasn’t already in the room when the three of them traipsed in, which immediately struck them as odd. Do Hoon had called for a meeting at 3pm on the dot, and Yongsun had made sure the message had been passed on.

“Should I call her?” Hyejin already had her phone out, waving it questioningly. “Hopefully she’s just stuck in traffic or something. That’s something she can’t control.”

“No, something’s off.” Yongsun couldn’t explain it, but the mood was definitely weird today. The halls had been oddly empty for this time of day, and Yongsun had noticed that all the office curtains had been pulled down on their way to the room. “Didn’t you guys notice it?”

“I thought it was just me.” Wheein was biting on her lower lip. “No one was at the reception counter either.”

“They better not be filming another prank.” Hyejin’s eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t fun the first time round.”

“No, that’s not it.” Yongsun walked over to the door, intent on investigating further. But just as her fingers brushed the handle it pushed open, Do Hoon on the other side. Yongsun jumped back in shock.

“Oh, sorry Yongsun.” Do Hoon was not someone that Yongsun would describe as easy to scare. They’d tried, multiple times over the years, to do it. But the man didn’t so much as show a hint of nerves each time.

(And even in their conversation about Jiyoon in the hall -)

(Do Hoon had been resigned, angry, forceful, but never -)

“Good afternoon, Do Hoon-nim,” they all greeted in quick succession. “Jiyoon isn’t here yet, but we were just about to call her,” Hyejin said, pulling up the number on her screen.

“No need for that.” Do Hoon had closed the door behind him, but he hadn’t stepped further into the room.

(Out of the corner of her eye, Yongsun noticed a shadow in window despite the blinds that had been rolled down to hide it.)

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Wheein stood from the chair she’d plopped herself in. “You look… not like yourself.”

Do Hoon took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you girls.” Frowning, he gestured towards the chairs on the side of the room. “You might want to sit for this.”

“Okay…?” Everyone was curious, but decided it couldn’t hurt to follow as he said. They fidgeted as they looked at each other, now beyond confused by their normally unflappable CEO’s behaviour.

“Is there anything we can do to help? Is it about Jiyoon again?” Yongsun was grasping at straws now, because that episode had changed a lot of things.

But it seemed like Mamamoo’s ratings were the farthest things from his mind right now, because he waved a hand almost violently, like he was batting that question away. “You need to know to know something very important.” He still hadn’t moved in any closer, which set their own nerves on edge. “And whatever your feelings are towards me by the end of this explanation, you need to believe me and trust that I was trying to do the best for everyone.”

Hyejin made a noise like she wanted to snap at him to hurry up, but Yongsun suspected only her members heard it. Taking a deep breath, Do Hoon seemed to center himself before beginning to speak.

“A month ago, I received a parcel that contained some materials that - well. That proved that Byulyi hadn’t died that night. On the bridge.”

And just like that night on Wheein’s rooftop, everyone went still.

(Forgetting their nerves.)

(Forgetting their thoughts.)

(Forgetting everything.)

“I called the police, and found out that someone had already been looking for Byulyi since that night. I told them to keep me posted, and -” Do Hoon managed a shaky smile. “And they found her. Alive.”

It was Hyejin that found her voice first. “But?” she asked, the question intense. Do Hoon laughed, a brittle thing that would have sent a shudder down Yongsun’s back - if only she could still feel it.

“But she’s not - she’s lost her memories. She doesn’t remember _anything_ .” His face mirrored the same disbelief that members were feeling. “I know. I _know_ .” He tucked his hands under his armpits, his leg bouncing under him. “Look, I know it’s a lot to digest, but - she’s here. To meet you guys.” He glanced at the door behind him. “We haven’t really been in contact since she’s been back - she’s been staying with her family the past week, and this was the first time I’ve seen her since - and trust me,” Do Hoon’s eyes were pleading. “I didn’t believe it too, but - Yuna is - she’s not like the Byulyi we knew. It’s _her_ , but it’s not at the same time. So.” He sighed, clearing his throat as he caught each of their gazes. “I know it’s a lot, but do you want to meet her?”

And Yongsun -

(Who’d been healing)

(Who’d been working everyday to stay afloat)

(To keep _breathing_ )

Was the first to stand. To nod.

(The betrayal would come later.)

(And the anger.)

(Right now, she just needed to see if it was _true_.)

And when she appeared in the doorway, Yongsun nearly fell to her knees.

(Because the hair was different, she was skinnier and tanner than Yongsun remembered, but -)

“Hello.” Moon Byulyi waved hesitantly. “My name is Yuna. It's nice to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know - it's not really the reunion I promised! But we need to hear Yuna's side of the story first to understand what happens next *runs away*
> 
> Thank you again for everyone who's still sticking around - any feedback is appreciated.


	16. 3.3 - the hard truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter feels really clumsy, but i hope you like it!

**3.3**

The place Moon Byulyi grew up in was nothing like what Yuna had imagined. Somehow, her perspective of the city was all coloured in greys and blues, gritty and tired.

(Yuna heard Lala’s voice in her head, telling her _you can be anyone you want in the city. It doesn’t care._ )

The neighbourhood in Bucheon was quite the opposite. A brightly coloured playground sat in the center of a cluster of pastel orange flats, towering higher than Yuna had ever seen. She counted at least twenty stories in total, completely in awe of the structural integrity of it all.

“And people live here?” She asked, her head tilted back to take it in. She started counting windows then, wondering how many there were, and which ones Byulyi apparently grew up looking out of. “In these flats?”

“Well, yeah. Pretty standard for city living. You’ve never lived in one of these?” She lit up a cigarette, flipping the hood of her jacket up with a grimace as the drizzle that had started while they had been in the cab began to fall heavier. “Lala lived in one.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t this tall.” Yuna wrapped her arms around herself as she counted the floors again, lingering on the eighth. “My family - they live up on the eighth floor?”

“According to this.” Ining peered at the directory. “This seems like a good neighbourhood. My place in Seoul is pretty rough.”

“Yeah.” They’d passed by a school, a shopping mall, and a small road that was packed with restaurants and cafes side by side on their way here. Yuna had just assumed that was how most city places looked like.

(There was so much she still didn’t know about the world.)

(She wondered if she would ever catch up.)

Taking her silence as nerves, Ining gently bumped Yuna with her shoulder. “They’re excited to meet you, you know.”

“I mean, I _am_ their daughter, freshly risen from the dead.” She tries to keep the apprehension - the _ruefulness_ \- out of her tone. “I suppose most people would be.”

“And you’re not?” Ining didn’t sound judgemental, just curious. “You seemed pretty excited yourself last week.”

And Yuna had been. Had been ready to embrace everything and leave it all behind but -

“I am.” She squared her shoulders, battering her pessimistic thoughts into submission. She stared out at the now pouring rain, watching it start to form a puddle in a dip on the road. “I can’t wait.”

“It’s okay to be scared.” Ining dropped her cigarette with one last puff, grounding it with her shoe. “I would be, in your position. But,” she crossed her arms and joined Yuna in staring out at the rain. “You know these people. Even if you don’t remember them, you know them. Or more importantly, they know you. And they won’t hurt you.” The private detective opened her mouth to say more, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, she sighed and rolled her head to loosen some of her tension. “We probably shouldn't linger down here too long. They’re waiting for us.” Something made Yuna feel like if she had disagreed suddenly, if she changed her mind right now and asked to be taken away, that she needed more time - Ining would have given it to her.

And it was that understanding and patience that eventually gives Yuna enough courage to nod. Ining smiled.

The private detective buzzed the intercom and announced their arrival to be let into the lobby, holding the door open as she ushered Yuna in. As they waited for the elevator, Yuna tried not to think about the voice she’d heard on the intercom. Had it been her mother on the other end? Had they been able to see her in the screen? Were they still excited to see her?

(This her?)

The ride up was almost unbearably long, though it couldn’t have been more than a minute. Yuna stared at the graffiti on the walls, wondering if she had ever known the owners of the handwriting, wondering if she had contributed to any of the drawings herself.

(Her fingers run themselves over a scratch in the wall that simply said _Minju was here_.)

“Here.” Yuna blinked at the chocolate being offered to her. Ining was still casually slumped against the wall of the elevator, looking at the keypad as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. Yuna appreciated her all the more for it. “Figured something sweet might be nice.”

“Thanks.” Yuna didn’t particularly like sweet things, but she liked the gesture at least. The chocolate taste in her mouth gave her something else to focus on as they arrived at her floor and the doors opened, steering her thoughts too closely to those early days of living at Lala’s apartment. “I don’t really feel nervous anymore. I think. Do you think that’s okay?”

“I think it’s good.” Ining smiled kindly at her. “There’s no guideline for how this kind of thing should make you feel, really.”

Somehow, hearing that comforted her.

(Like she wasn’t alone in her confusion.)

(In having this tightness in her chest and belly.)

(In feeling like she wasn’t in her own skin - merely watching, as someone like her walked down the hall, stood behind Ining and waited for the door to open.)

Unlike the neighbourhood, Byulyi’s parents - _her_ parents - looked exactly as she imagined they would. Yuna could see where she got her sharp nose and eyes from, could pinpoint where she may have gotten her jaw and slender frame from.

(They had kind eyes too.)

(Yuna couldn’t help the flutter of something like familiarity nagging at her, but it hurt because she didn’t know these people.)

They were crying. Not loudly, not consciously, Yuna thought. The only reason Yuna knew they acknowledged they were doing it at all was the way they kept dabbing at their faces with tissue.

If someone were to ask her how their reunion went - Yuna couldn’t tell you. She wasn’t really processing it at the point, to be honest. Because here were two people Yuna had never met before today - and yet.

(And yet, she knew how to hug them, her arms finding their places naturally around their shoulders, their backs.)

(And yet, she felt a sharp pain in her chest, at their sight of their tears, their fervent thank yous to Ining and the way they kept touching her - her arms, her face, her shoulders. Like they couldn’t believe she was here.)

(And yet, Yuna wanted to get on her knees and apologise for all the grief she caused, the hurt and the longing that came with loss.)

The thing that made her come to

(almost)

was the sight of her sisters, who had been waiting in the bedrooms till her parents were done with her - a child named Yeseol and an adult named Seulgi.

(One, who cried out “Unnie!” and ran at her, grabbing at her waist and not letting go, crying into her shirt.)

(The other, who was no less affected by her return, but understood - somehow - that Yuna was overwhelmed, was at a loss at how to proceed and merely came over and took her hand - giving it a gentle squeeze -)

(Just enough to let her know she was here, she was glad she had returned, that she was home - and whispered _welcome back, unnie._ )

“Well, I’m sure you want some time alone.” Ining had lingered in the doorway instead of coming into the house proper, watching their reunion with a indecipherable smile on her face. “I’m going to get going.”

“Thank you.” Byulyi’s mother had grabbed the private detective’s hand, fervently shaking it. “We could never repay you for this.”

“Please.” Ining shook her head uncomfortably. “It’s payment enough that I was able to reunite you guys.”

“Wait.” Everyone turned when Yuna spoke, making her fidget - hoping her newfound nerves didn’t show. “I’ll walk you out.” Her parents looked like they might protest, but Yuna didn’t give them a chance to say anything.

Lingering by the elevators, Yuna felt panic spike in her at the thought of Ining leaving.

(It wasn’t a feeling of abandonment - not quite.)

(But it sent a shiver up her spine as she thought about being left alone with these people.)

“I don’t think I ever actually said it myself.” When Ining tilted her head questioningly, Yuna’s lips curled upwards. “Thank you. For finding me.”

Ining smiled right back. “I ought to thank you. It’s been my pleasure.” The private detective gazed thoughtfully back the way they came, chuckling a little when she saw a small head duck back inside the apartment. “They are so happy to have you back.”

“I can tell.” Ining waited for her to continue. “It makes me feel even guiltier that I’m not sure if I feel the same just yet.”

“Give it time.” Ining shrugged. “Everyone’s emotional - you especially. You’ll settle in and you can decide if this is the life you want to lead. In the meantime - you know where to find me.” She stepped into the elevator, raising a hand in farewell. “I reckon you owe me a lunch, at least.”

Yuna just laughed and nodded, waving back at her as the doors closed. Inhaling deeply, she turned back to her apartment - her home.

For the first time since waking up, Yuna was truly on her own. And she wasn’t sure if she knew what that meant yet -

(to have the freedom to choose)

(to have infinite possibilities stretch out in front of her like this)

but she knew this much at least: however she would move on from this point - after this reunion, this tangible link to her past - she would have to do it alone.

(And inside her somewhere, the waves crashed against the shore, smaller and smaller with each breath she took.)

(Yuna wasn’t sure if she was holding each and every one of those breaths either.)

\- - - - -

“Oh, Byulyi, no, leave the dishes alone. We’ll get it.” Byulyi’s mother - _her_ mother - waved her off as she made to take her plate back to the sink. Yuna hesitated, because she was always the one cleaning up at Ahjumma’s, because it felt like a little weird to have them take care of her like this -

But Seulgi and Yeseol were already bustling around the table, stacking her plate on theirs and moving it to the kitchen, Seulgi patting her shoulder to get her to stay.

Lunch had been quiet, for the most part, a sort of anticipation building up around them as everyone edged around for something to say. Yuna knew they had questions and she was the only one with the answers, but she wasn’t sure how much they wanted to hear.

(Or how much she could say.)

So she’d just listened as everyone pretended things were still the same, small talk about the weather and how school was.

(Or at least, she assumed that was what it was.)

(The off-beat silences that kept cropping up made her really unsure.)

“Do you want dessert?” Seulgi called from the kitchen, her head in the fridge. “Appa made cheesecake.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.” Yuna smiled politely as she patted her belly. “It was a great feast.” Her parents exchanged a glance that Yuna didn’t miss. “What?”

“No, nothing. It’s just - it was your favourite.” Appa said, looking as awkward as the air suddenly felt. “I thought you might - I mean, I assumed you still liked it.”

“Oh.” Now Yuna felt bad and made to stand, to go and get a slice for herself, but Appa was already waving her down, his smile stretched thin. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind trying it, but -”

“It’s alright, really.” He sighed as Seulgi and Yeseol rejoined them - the latter sitting right next to her, her hand fisting in Yuna’s shirt as it had been throughout lunch, the former with a slice of cake on her own plate that she smiled apologetically over. “I mean, they explained that - well, that you don’t remember…”  
“Is that true, Byulyi?” Omma was crushing a piece of tissue in her fist, her eyes wide. “Do you really not remember?” Appa tried to interrupt, flustered, but Omma wouldn’t let him. “Do you know who we are?”

Yuna rubbed the back of her neck as she took a deep breath, figuring that this was it - this was the moment the entirety of the lunch had been building up to. “No, I’m sorry. I mean, I can see that we are related -”

(Had noticed that when they smiled, her Omma and her sisters noses crinkled the same way.)

“But I don’t remember any of you. I’m sorry.” Yuna kept herself still as her Omma didn’t exactly cry -

(because it was a soft, strangled noise that came out of her throat before she smothered it, her face struggling to stay impassive)

But she didn’t look at Yuna either, as she turned her face to the window, her husband pretending to be stoic like her, even through the heartbreak in his eyes. Yuna’s fingers itched to reach out, to do something, but she wasn’t sure what it was she _could_ do.

“It’s alright, unnie, really.” Seulgi spoke up next to her. Her sister’s eyes were wet, but her tone was reassuring. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not. It’s that _bitch_ that took you away from us -”

“Omma!”

“Soojin!”

“I’m right, aren’t I? This wouldn’t have happened if -”

“Honey, there are so many other -”

“Byulyi-unnie fell off a bridge, Omma, she would have been injured no matter what -”

“She hadn’t taken her away -”

“We finally have her back, we can’t -”

“And you knew this was how it was going to be, why are you acting like this -”

“Why are you all taking her side? Do you think Byulyi _deserved_ this?” Appa reared back, while Seulgi looked like she’d been slapped by her mother’s words. Realising what she’d said, Omma pressed a hand against her mouth in shock, eyes wide as she tried to apologise but Seulgi just put her hand up and shook her head.

“No, Omma, please.” Yuna looked between the two of them, that same tightness in her chest hurting more as the mother and daughter both seemed to curl into themselves - just a bit. “I know you’re hurting, but Byulyi-unnie is -”

“Yuna.” She wasn’t sure why she spoke up -

(now, at that point)

(of all times)

but she couldn’t bear to hear them all calling her by a name she’d only learnt two weeks ago. “Please don’t - I know it must be so hard on all of you, but I - my name is Yuna. Now.” She fretted with her fingers as she stared at the slice of cheesecake on the table, trying to get it all out before the situation escalated further and she lost her chance to tell them, to -

“When I woke up all those months ago, I didn’t have a name. Or she didn’t tell me my name. So I suggested we call me Yuna.” She remembered the confusion of that time, the sense of dread that seemed to dog her every step as she felt any chance for her old life to return slip out of her grasp with each passing day. “And when I moved to the countryside I started introducing myself as Yuna and the name didn’t feel so weird anymore. Like it really was mine - my name. So I know it’d be hard, but I hope - I mean, I would like you to call me Yuna. For now at least.”

(In case she never found out who Byulyi really was.)

(In case she realised she never _wanted_ to be Byulyi again.)

She thinks she’s said something wrong when no one says anything for a long moment. And then her Appa smiles at her - a thin, barely-there curl of the lips - and nods.

“Okay.” Her Omma opens her mouth to say something, but is silenced by a look Appa gives her. “Okay… Yuna.”

And Yuna knows it hasn’t really changed anything - not the hurt, the anger, the _fear_ \- but she can’t help but feel more settled about it all after that.

(Somewhere, through all that, Yeseol’s hand had snuck into hers, and Yuna was holding tight.)

\- - - - - -

“We shared a room until you moved out.” Seulgi explains as she watches Yuna sit on the edge of the mattress on the bottom bunk. “That bed folds up normally, and that’s where my desk goes when we don’t have guests. So when you stayed over, that one was yours.”

“I’ve been living alone? How long?” Yuna had managed to find some details of Moon Byulyi’s life online - the amount of information the fans had collected was staggering, and she was still sifting through interviews Mamamoo had done together to gain some sort of insight into who the rapper had been - but there was still so much she didn’t know.

(Like that her father’s cheesecake was her favourite.)

(Like she used to share a room with her younger sister.)

(Like how long it’d been since she’d officially moved out.)

“Maybe six years?” Seulgi’s brows furrowed. “You moved out when you were a trainee, but I don’t know if that counts, since you were always here anyway, eating off Omma’s food.” There was a teasing glint in her sister’s eye, and Yuna frowned. “Ah, I’m just kidding. But unnie, you still ask Omma to send you food. It’s embarrassing, how you can’t cook.”

“I can cook now.” Yuna raised an eyebrow. “I used to cook for Ahjumma.”

“We don’t have any grandmas though - oh. You mean the lady you stayed with?” Yuna started, as she realised that maybe that had changed too. “You mentioned you were staying with… that girl’s grandma. Out in the country.” Yuna had given them the briefest of explanations about what had happened since she’d been gone, but hadn’t gone into details because it had seemed too early.

(Too new.)

“Yeah. Ahjumma. She ran a farm, and I helped her out a lot.” Yuna rubbed the back of her neck as she took in the room again. “This room suits you, I think.”

“I mean, I’m not really here too often, since I stay on-campus.” Seulgi sat next to her sister, her arm brushing against Yuna’s as she raised it to point out things. “So some of these things were yours. That poster, for example. You were really into TVXQ. And Apink.”

“Oh.” She’d read somewhere that she’d been inspired by TVXQ to become a singer, that she’d been friends with the girls from Apink. To see them on the posters like this - the supposed reality of it seemed even more surreal. “Well.”

As if sensing her thoughts turning to a darker direction, Seulgi sighed as she leaned more of her weight against Yuna’s side.

(It reminded her of Lala - but it was different.)

(Nicer.)

“When you disappeared, I thought about taking down your things for good. But I couldn’t bring myself to.” Seulgi smiled at her. “It’s like, I grew up with those things on the walls, you know? And I somehow forgot they were even there. I wouldn’t even know what to do with the empty space if I did take them down.”

“I wouldn’t have minded.” Yuna had no attachment to them, the way Byulyi had. But Seulgi had no way of knowing that.

Still, she couldn’t deny the pang that shot through her at her sister’s words, something that was both painful but sweet at the same time. “They do look nice up there, don’t you think?”

“Ugh, unnie.” Yuna yelped as Seulgi pushed against her shoulder. “Don’t start with that again. You don’t remember this, but you wouldn’t shut up about how good they looked when you put them up the first time.”

“I did not!”

“Yeah, you did!” Seulgi rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t shut up about where they should go up, on this wall or that one, or if they were straight or too high up. And then when you would kiss Yuho’s face, stroking it as you said -”

“I did _not_!” Yuna’s face was red hot and blushing, and Seulgi laughed loudly. “Come on, I didn’t do those things, did I?”

“Okay, okay!” Seulgi was still cackling at Yuna’s horrified look. “I was kidding, you didn’t. Only about the kissing part. You were such a bitch about the posters though. I wasn’t lying about that.” Yuna scowled as she shoved Seulgi herself, sending her squealing as she fell onto the floor.

Ignoring her indignant splutters, Yuna raised an eyebrow and simply said, “You deserved that.” The sisters stared at each other for a long moment, neither wanting to back down, until Seulgi gave in with a soft laugh.

“That was totally something Byulyi-unnie would have done.” And with that, the previous light-heartedness shifted back into something tense.

“I’m sorry -”

“Unnie, really. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Seulgi rubbed at her eyes from her spot on the floor, her legs somehow draped over Yuna’s thighs. “We’ve all just missed you, is all. These past few months have been… hard. And they’d warned us about the amnesia and everything, but I guess it’s just sinking in.” Seulgi swallowed harshly. Yuna forced herself not to look away from her pleading gaze. “You’re still my sister though. That will never change.”

“Thank you.” Yuna’s gratitude was heartfelt. “And I’m trying my best - I just - there’s just so much going on right now, and - well.” Seulgi nodded understandingly, hauling herself up to a sitting position. “But I’m trying.”

“It’s alright, unnie.” Seulgi patted her knee. “I’m here if you need to ask any questions. Omma and Appa - they’re just overwhelmed right now, and I don’t think they know how to deal with this. You were - you were their first child. They… well.” Seulgi searched her sister’s face, unsure if she should continue. When Yuna just tilted her head, Seulgi sighed. “They didn’t think you were ever - they thought you died on that bridge. They had to.” In a quieter voice, she continued. “We all had to. Yeseol took it the worst, but she’s young. She’ll bounce back.” Seulgi laughed thickly. “She crept into my room nearly every night for the longest time. She only just started sleeping on her own again.”

Yuna wasn’t sure what to she could say to make it better, so she opted for silence. Looking around, past the posters and the messy desk, she struggled to imagine a younger her growing up here. Sleeping in this room, studying amongst these four walls. A photo tucked amongst other things in her shelf had her raising to get a closer look, grabbing the Polaroid carefully.

“These are… my friends, right?” It was her in the photo - younger, and with longer hair - squeezed in with three other faces. All as familiar to her now as she was with her own. “The girls from Mamamoo?”

“Yeah.” Seulgi wiggled her fingers for it. “That’s Yongsun-unnie, Wheein-unnie and Hyejin-unnie.” A guilty look flashed across her face. “Do they know that you’re back?”

“... I don’t know.” Yuna’s grip tightened on the photo. “I don’t think so. Ining mentioned that the police had been in contact with them, but.” Yuna sighed. “I don’t really want to see them right now.” At Seulgi’s questioning silence, Yuna tried to find it in her to smile. It didn’t work. “I don’t think they need me barging back in their lives at the moment. They’re in the middle of a comeback right now, aren’t they? I’ve been keeping up with the news.” She’d read all about the new member, the incident with the eggs at their first performance back. Yuna wasn’t sure how she felt about the whole thing - being replaced, but more so, having been part of something so big in the first place.

(It was surreal.)

(This version of her worked on a _farm_.)

Yuna jumped when she felt Seulgi come up behind her. She looked disgruntled, for some reason, and Yuna blinked as her sister stuck the photo to her forehead. “You’re an idiot, unnie. There isn’t ever going to be a good time to see them. And I know for a fact,” Seulgi’s eyes had sharpened considerably. “- that they would love to see you.” Yuna didn’t miss the way her eyes darted back to the photo with a look of apprehension and sorrow. “Yongsun-unnie, especially.”

“We seemed close.” Yuna agreed, recalling the numerous videos and interviews she’d seen and read. “Yongsun and I.”

Seulgi stared at her for a moment, before letting out a laugh.

(It sounded entirely too stressed.)

“Sure, unnie.” A beat. “You guys were close.” Yuna wasn’t sure what to do when Seulgi abruptly turned away and made to leave, a hand wiping at her nose. “We should probably get some sleep. You must be exhausted.” Yuna grabbed the photo when it fell from her forehead, but didn’t say anything else as Seulgi closed the door behind her.

(Later on, when Yuna had been lying in bed for maybe an hour, unable to sleep, she heard the door open again and expected to hear Seulgi climb up onto the bunk on top of her.)

(Instead, the footsteps stopped by her head, and when Yuna turned, Yeseol was there, entirely too young to look that tired.)

(Yuna held the blankets up in reply to her youngest sister’s whispered question, tucking her in next to her, and wondering -)

(What else had she missed while she’d been away?)

\- - - - - -

Being home - it took a lot of adjusting to. She’d been alone -

(Or felt like it.)

Since she’d woken up, and she had no idea to do with suddenly having _parents_.

(Having a _family_.)

(The first time she’d woken up to find breakfast already on the table, she’d nearly asked where her food was.)

(Her Omma had presented her with some of her old clothes that she’d apparently left behind in the house from her visits. Freshly laundered and soft.)

(Yuna had to take a seat on her bed to regain her composure after that.)

Yuna had been grateful when she found out that her parents had asked the company for a week, at least, to have her for themselves before she even thought about returning to any of that.

(And it wasn’t that Yuna was running away from the impending encounter.)

(Even though it felt a lot like that.)

(But -)

She was sat in her room, fingering the letter that she had received - handwritten and personally addressed to her - from a Kim Do Hoon.

(RBW’s CEO.)

(The man who brought Mamamoo together.)

(A man Moon Byulyi had clearly respected.)

“Omma and Appa won’t ask, but they’re dying to know what it says.” Seulgi lingered in the doorway, unsure if she could come in. Yuna barely turned to take in the sight of her, dressed up since she’d just come back from uni, a cup of tea in her hands.

(Tea made her think of Ahjumma, and the sun beating down on her skin in the summer breeze.)

(Seoul was much colder than the countryside.)

(Even though Yuna sweated still.)

“You can read it, if you want.” Yuna set it next to her on the bed, continuing her stare out the window, wondering about how to respond to it. Seulgi took the paper and read, sipping at her tea every so often. When she was done, she set it down and made a soft sound of acknowledgment, brows furrowed in almost the same way Yuna’s was.

“I told you they want to see you.” Seulgi sighed as she glanced at the letter again. She snorted. “His penmanship is horrible, but he’s very polite.”

“He wants me to come back, but he doesn’t want to pressure me.” Yuna could feel her anxiety building in her again, her usual exercises not working to keep it down. She took a deep breath, trying to keep it just in her fingers, her fingertips.

(They twitched and itched and _burned_.)

(Yuna tucked them behind her knees to keep them still.)

“I have a question though. And I want you to answer me honestly.” Yuna swallowed as she finally turned to face her sister fully. Seulgi was listening closely, her eyes focused as she waited for Yuna to speak. “The first night I came back, you said they wanted to see me. All of them - Yongsun, Wheein and Hyejin. But you mentioned Yongsun specifically.” Seulgi started, straightened as she began to fidget with the tag on the tea bag still in her cup. “Why?”

“I don’t think it’s really my place to say, unnie -”

“Was there something else going on?” Yuna wasn’t an idiot. Seulgi had pointed her out like she was special, and Do Hoon -

( _We’re all waiting for you to come back. Even if you decide you don’t want this life anymore, we all miss our friend. We haven’t forgotten you. And I feel it is important to tell you that Yongsun never gave up hope._ )

“She’s… different, isn’t she?” Yuna had seen the videos too. The way Byulyi had played with Yongsun, the way they seemed to orbit around each other naturally. There were some rather… interesting videos made by the fans as well, compilations of their interactions that had made Yuna’s heart race and something tighten in her chest uncomfortably.

(She had stopped after the second one, unable to take much more of the blush on her own cheeks.)

(The word _Moonsun_ was all she could see for a long time, whenever she closed her eyes.)

Seulgi pinched the bridge of her nose, looking pained as she said, “Unnie…”

“Seulgi, please.” Yuna grabbed for her hand, squeezing tightly as she pleaded. “I don’t know so many things, and if this - if she was - I mean - it’s been bothering me so much. I haven’t been able to sleep -”

“Alright, alright!” Seulgi pulled her hand away, her irritated expression bearing no heat. “Geez, guilt trip a woman, why don’t you?”

“I just want to know.” Yuna’s lips twitched, pleased she’d won. “And you’re the only one who seems to know anything.”

Seulgi groaned as she put a hand up to stop her from speaking any further. “Stop it. You’ve already won.” A blush rode on her cheeks, making Yuna wonder even further. “Geez, this was not how I saw this day going.”

“So there was something going on?” Yuna had her suspicions, but she didn’t want to say it aloud. “Between us?”

“I should hope so,” Seulgi’s voice dropped as she glanced anxiously out at the empty living room, still in view through the open door. “Since you guys were dating.” Yuna froze. “I don’t know for how long, but you guys were definitely… serious about each other.”

“Yongsun and I…?” _Dating_?

“Yeah?”

“But we’re both girls.” As soon as she said the words, she knew she didn’t mean them. But Seulgi bristled, her embarrassment disappearing in a flash.

“So what?”

“Nothing!” Yuna couldn’t stop her hands from trembling as she struggled to continue. “I didn’t mean that, I just -”

(Yuna tried to imagine it, Yongsun and her, just like in the videos -)

(But she could only see Lala, and it scared her.)

When it seemed that Yuna would never find the right words, Seulgi huffed as she said, “Right, okay.” Taking her cup of tea with her, she stood, looking sure of herself for the first time since Yuna had met her.

(Strong.)

“I’m only letting you get away with saying that because you don’t know any better right now. But if you hurt Yongsun-unnie in any way - I’m sorry, unnie.” Yuna was surprised by the steel in her voice. “You’re my sister, but so is Yongsun-unnie to me, and I won’t let you hurt her because of your ignorance, alright?”

“I _wouldn’t_.” It would take some getting used to, but that wasn’t any of Yuna’s business, really.

(Now, if she was Moon Byulyi, then - yes.)

(But she wasn’t.)

“But I don’t know anything about these people really, and if anyone’s expecting me to just pick up where we left off, then -” She cut herself off abruptly, because she had no more words. It wasn’t a threat anyway. She wasn’t a threat.

(She wasn’t really anything.)

Seulgi rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so conceited, unnie. Yongsun-unnie - she hasn’t forgotten you, for sure. But she’s also not the same person she was before, just like you.” Seulgi sighed. “None of them are.”

Yuna couldn’t take it anymore. She needed to get out of here, go for a walk.

So she simply breezed by her sister without another word.

\- - - - - -

Being smothered was new. She’d heard the old ladies gossiping about it in the markets, had seen new parents do it to their children in the street, and Yuna had once longed to know what that experience had felt like.

She decided she didn’t like it. Having someone ask about her wellbeing at every turn, having to deal with asking for permission when she left and having to answer questions about where she was going - Yuna was going to go crazy. She was an adult, damn it.

(An adult with very limited knowledge of her own past and the world, but an adult still.)

(Apparently she would be turning 25 this year.)

“Unnie!” Yeseol lit up when she saw Yuna at the school gates, and Yuna couldn’t help but feel warm about it. She offered her hand for her sister to hold with a smile, listening intently as she began to chatter about her day. She was glad that she’d asked to pick her up today after all - being cooped up in the house wasn’t helping her clear her thoughts.

It was a nice neighbourhood after all, Yuna mused. Byulyi must’ve been really lucky that she got to grow up in such a place.

“Should we go get ice cream?” Yuna used to indulge in one when the days got too hot. Yeseol lit up as she bounced, so full of life that Yuna couldn’t help but envy. “You have to show me where it is, so we can get it.”

“This way, unnie!” She tugged and Yuna followed, barely keeping up because the girl was _fast_.

“Wait, wait, slow down!” Yeseol shot her a questioning look. “Do you run track or something? You’re so fast!”

“Yeah. Unnie used to come and watch me.” Yeseol pointed out the corner store they wanted. “Unnie, it’s that one.”

“Ah.” The casualness of the statement about her past caught her off guard. She hadn’t really spent much time with Yeseol since she’d been back - if she wasn’t trying to figure out how to relate to her parents, she was talking to (or not talking to) Seulgi about her past. And if she wasn’t doing either of those?

Well, she was a little embarrassed to admit she spent a lot of time sleeping.

(And thinking.)

(But mostly, sleeping.)

Still, it was nice to realise that Yeseol was a really good kid. Bright, bubbly. Unafraid to speak her mind.

(Yuna wondered if she had been that sort of person before.)

(She seemed really shy in a lot of the appearances she’d made.)

(But then she thought of Seulgi and she couldn’t quite figure out where Moon Byulyi sat.)

“Unnie bought us these ice creams once.” Yuna paused in her next lick to pay attention as they meandered through a small park. “You got scolded for it a lot though.”

“Why? Are Omma and Appa very strict about it?”

“No. Because unnie stole Omma’s money to buy them.” Yuna startled at the revelation. “Omma beat unnie really hard and unnie cried for a long time.” Yeseol grinned as Yuna blushed. “It’s funny.”

“Right…” She could see how that might be funny to a kid, but it made Yuna wonder -

Maybe it wasn’t so bad that she couldn’t remember anything about these people.

(History and baggage - she’d seen what they’d done to Lala and Ahjumma.)

(Maybe -)

“Did anyone hurt you, unnie?” Yuna blinked as Yeseol swung their clasped hands while skipping over a rock on the ground. Her popsicle dripped sticky liquid down her other hand, but Yeseol didn’t seem to care. “You were crying last night.”

Yuna hadn’t realised Yeseol had been awake for that.

(They’d been sleeping together every night since her return.)

(Yeseol’s light snores sometimes woke Yuna up at night, but she found she wouldn’t trade it for the world.)

“Ah, you heard that.” Yuna bit at her popsicle, the back of her neck prickling. “Sorry, Yeseol-ah. I was… it was nothing.”

(Yuna had been thinking -)

(About Lala)

(And Mamamoo)

(And Yongsun)

“Really?” Yeseol frowned. “Unnie used to say that if you had problems, it was always good to talk about it.” Yuna continued eating, hoping to stall as she tried to find a way to answer. “Unnie used to listen to me talk all the time.”

“You can still talk to me, if you want.” Yuna didn’t want to disappoint her. She was a kid, after all. “I can listen very well.”

“But unnie won’t talk to me, right? It’s alright then.” Yeseol sounded innocent enough, but a quick glance at her intelligent expression let Yuna know that she knew more than she let on.

(Is this what Ahjumma used to feel like when she looked at Yuna?)

(This urge to -)

“Yah, you’re a rascal, aren’t you?” Yeseol yelped when Yuna reached out to ruffle her hair. “I’m just thinking about a lot of things.”

“Like what?”

“Like being back. And meeting my friends.” Yuna almost couldn’t believe she was talking to a thirteen year old about these things. “I’m just… confused. Nervous. All those things.”

“That’s stupid then.” Yeseol rolled her eyes. “If you have a problem, you need to tackle them!” She sounded so sure of herself that Yuna had to stifle a laugh. “Face them head-on: that’s what Hayoung would say.”

“Oh? And who is Hayoung?” Yuna assumed it was some drama character or something, but Yuna beamed brighter.

“Hayoung is my best friend. She knows a lot of things.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Yeseol began to rattle off a bunch of things about insects and trivia of all sorts of things, obviously excited that she got to talk about her best friend. Yuna listened intently, nodding along at all the right points, enraptured by the way Yeseol seemed so _unburdened_ by everything.

(A tug in her lower stomach - barely noticeable.)

“Well, you sound like good friends. I’m glad.” Yuna carefully guided them around a rather large pothole. “Those are important, you know?” Yuna had heard someone say it once, in the market, and it seemed like the right thing to say. Yeseol seemed to think so too, if her determined nod was anything to go by.

But then she seemed to dim slightly. “Unnie, you should meet your friends.” Yuna glanced down at her. Yeseol was done with her treat and she was nibbling on the stick in her mouth. “They miss you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. I missed school once because I was sick, and Hayoung gave me the biggest hug ever when I got back. It was nice.” Yuna frowned. “And then she broke her arm and couldn’t come to school for a while and I kept forgetting she wasn’t there. It wasn’t very fun.”

“Oh.” Yuna blinked. “But Yeseol-ah, this is a little different -”

“When unnie didn’t come home, I waited for so long. And then everyone kept saying you died, and I missed you a lot. Everyone did. Omma and Appa were so sad. Seulgi too.” Yeseol looked up at her. “And then you didn’t die. And now we’re all happy again.” And Yuna knew that that couldn’t be entirely true, especially considering the circumstances, but it was true enough, she supposed.

(For a kid.)

(Could it really be that simple?)

“I suppose so.”

“Unnie.” Yeseol had turned that same sharp gaze that Seulgi had on her. And once again. Yuna was struck by how unafraid this girl was. “You should meet your friends.”

Wanting to placate her, Yuna nodded her head. “I will.” _Eventually._

The answer seemed to satisfy Yeseol, at least, as she began walking again. “Good,” she said, nibbling on her popsicle stick. “Because unnie was the one that told me not to be a coward.” Yuna winced, reaching out to ruffle Yeseol’s hair again.

(It really was long and soft.)

(Yuna wondered how she would feel like with long hair herself.)

“You rascal.” She ignored Yeseol’s indignant yelps. “You should speak more politely with your elders.”

“I was being polite!” Yeseol began to complain, and Yuna settled into an easy banter with her, wondering when it was that she had gained so many people in her corner.

(Ahjumma, Ining, Seulgi, her parents, Yeseol -)

(That night Yuna lay awake and focused on just breathing.)

(In.)

(Out.)

(In.)

\- - - - - -

“Ah, madam, it’s nice to hear from you.” Do Hoon wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he picked up the call from Byulyi’s mother. “How are things?”

“Byul- Yuna is doing alright. She’s still settling in. Has she called you yet?” She sounded anxious, like any mother would. Do Hoon shook his head even though she couldn’t see her, glancing out at the still open blinds into the rest of the office. He stood to close them, wanting to keep this conversation as private as possible.

“No, she hasn’t. To be honest, I’ve been trying to be patient, but I almost can’t wait any longer.” And the girls. The longer this all got drawn out, the more it would hurt. Do Hoon thought of their faces and felt his heart clench.

“I’ll try talking to her again. You know how she is - always so stubborn. Does things at her own pace.”

Do Hoon chuckled. “That didn’t change? That’s nice to know.” A long silence. “How are _you_ , madam?” He was genuinely curious about it; if the past few months had taught him nothing else, it was the power of a listening ear.

Byulyi’s mother sighed, the sound of it crackling in his ear. “To be honest with you? It’s been hard. I nearly yelled at her the other day because she insisted on going out even when I told her not to. It was so late at night as well!” Do Hoon hummed. “And she barely eats, and she doesn’t really talk to us - she talks to her sisters, I know because we can hear them - but it’s like she doesn’t know us!” Realising what she just said, she sighed again. “It’s like she doesn’t want to know us.”

“I’m sure it’s been hard all around.” Do Hoon didn’t want to admit that the last statement made his heart beat a little harder. “I can’t imagine this being easy for her either.”

“Of course it’s not. And we want to be there for her but,” And she lowered her voice, as if it was a secret thing to say. “Some days it’s like she doesn’t even try!”

“‘Try’?”

“She hasn’t even talked about meeting any of her old friends, or asked much about her past. It’s like she doesn’t care.” Do Hoon listened to the sniffle. “She doesn’t even respond sometimes when we forget to call her Yuna.”

Do Hoon had wondered about that. Byulyi’s mother had explained some of it the first time he’d called, asking about her, but he hadn’t realised the extent of it. He rubbed at his temples as he considered this, and how to respond.

“I suppose… we just have to wait her out. Till she decides to talk to one of us about it. I’ve found that it’s best not to push.” It sounded too much like parenting advice, and Do Hoon wanted to kick himself for it. Byulyi was an adult woman, one that had gone through a lot in the past eight months, and so Do Hoon wouldn’t be as quick as to write her off as uncaring. But he didn’t want to coddle her too much either - otherwise she would never have a reason to come back to RBW.

His eyes lingered on the poster of Mamamoo from their ‘Yes I Am’ promotions that hung on his wall - when the girls had been at the height of their popularity. And he couldn’t help the tug of responsibility her felt at the thought of Byulyi never having that again.

“Well, let me know how she responds, madam. I’m sorry to push this on you.” Do Hoon kept his finger hovering over the button to hang up as Byulyi’s mother uttered her goodbyes. Once that was done, he leaned back in his seat with a sigh. There was still so much work to be done.

(Do Hoon repeated his promise to himself.)

(He would not let her down again.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for dragging it out some more but they'll be reunited in the next chapter for sure!!!
> 
> as always, thank you for sticking with this story. i read all your comments, even if i don't necessarily get round to replying them all. i hope you enjoyed this chapter too!


	17. 3.4 - the reunion

**3.4**

“You knew.” Yongsun didn’t bother to keep her accusation out of her tone. Seulgi had known her sister was alive and hadn’t told her. 

Her. 

(“ _... you’re Byulyi’s person, unnie. You know that. _ ”)

“Unnie -”

“How long?” She couldn’t bear to hear the pleading in her tone, the guilt. “How long did you know?”

“... they found her two weeks ago.” Yongsun exhaled shakily, her entire body weak. Ignoring the rest of whatever Seulgi had to say, she hung up and curled under the safety of her bedsheets. 

Here, in the dark, Yongsun didn’t have to face the truth.

That Byulyi had died that day on the bridge, and someone else had taken her place. Someone who had no idea who Yongsun was. 

Her phone lit up again - Seulgi was trying to call her. Yongsun took her phone and threw it across the room. 

And then she closed her eyes and wept. 

(And wept and wept and  _ wept _ .)

\- - - - - - 

As always, Hyejin was the first to find her voice, stepping forward in her shock to get closer. “Unnie?” she called, her voice weak and trembling. “Is that you?” 

“Um, not really.” Yongsun was frozen, just watching as Byulyi wrapped her arms around herself and glanced at Do Hoon nervously. “Like I said, my name is Yuna.”

“What are you talking about?” Wheein’s brows were furrowed. “You look just like her.” 

“I…” 

“She goes by Yuna now.” Yuna nodded gratefully as the CEO stepped in. “I don’t know all the details either but -”

“This isn’t funny.” At first, Yongsun wasn’t sure who had spoken, but then she realised that it had been her. “Whatever joke you think this is, it’s not funny.”

“It isn’t a joke.” Byulyi - or Yuna, or  _ whoever _ she thought she was - frowned as she stepped closer. “I really am Byulyi -”

“How much are they paying you?” Yongsun was stalking closer now, everything about her angry. “Huh? A thousand? Two thousand? It must be a lot for you to come here and pretend to be her, to come up with this bullshit about amnesia -”

“Yongsun, stop -”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” She snarled, startling Wheein, who had her hand outstretched. “I am sick and tired of everyone telling me to...to… to step up! To do better!” She whirled back to face this imposter, her finger jabbing into her chest. “And then you show up and expect us to believe you? That you’re her? Well I’ll tell you what -” Yuna was looking at her with wide eyes, stepping back till she hit the wall behind her. “None of us are buying your bullshit.” They were eye to eye now, close enough that Yongsun could see the pores on her nose. And when Yuna didn’t say anything else, Yongsun scoffed and left, slamming the door behind her. 

No one followed after her.

\- - - - - -

In hindsight, Yongsun regretted her actions immediately after she’d done them. She hadn’t given anyone the chance to explain - not Do Hoon, and especially not Yuna -

(or Byulyi, or whoever the fuck she thought she was)

And now, lying on her bed hours later, Yongsun regretted. 

“Fuck,” she whispered, rolling onto her back as she tried to ignore how swollen her eyelids felt, how tight her skin was from crying. A quick glance at the bedside clock told her that it was nearly 3am in the morning. Yongsun had been up for hours now. But her brain wouldn’t let her sleep. 

She kept replaying that moment in her head - the moment when the door opened and the woman stepped in, so familiar to Yongsun that she had ached to reach out and grab her, to pull her close just like she used to. 

(Like she’d been dreaming of for so long now.)

And yet - she couldn’t help the moments after, when the rage hadn’t just flickered to life in her - it had roared, and bellowed, and clawed its way out of her throat, making her say and do those terrible things. 

None of it made sense. Byulyi had died that night. Yongsun had accepted that. It had taken so long, but she’d finally accepted that her lover had died in the Han River on a cold autumn night. 

And then she’d walked in that door like she had never left, looking like the woman who’d kissed Yongsun silly in the changing room after their last performance, whispering in her ear and telling her she’d done a great job, promising a reward when they got home. Sure, this  _ her _ had been leaner, and tanner, and her haircut was different - but Yongsun would know that face anywhere. 

(Those eyes and that  _ nose _ and those lips.)

Wheein and Hyejin had stopped by her place to check on her, but Yongsun hadn’t answered any of their calls or texts or the door. She had no desire to see them now. Didn’t want to hear what they had to say. 

(They’d stayed. They’d probably talked to her.)

(Yongsun really didn’t want to hear what she had to say.)

Instead, Yongsun closed her eyes and hoped to dream.

(About what, she wasn’t sure.)

(Even a nightmare would be better than this.)

\- - - - - - 

Yongsun had seriously considered blowing off work once again, but her professionalism reared its ugly head. Besides, the disbelieving look her therapist had given her when she’d explained what had happened the day before seriously bothered her, like an annoying bug that wouldn’t leave. 

(Sometimes Yongsun hated the woman.)

A part of her took some degree of satisfaction from the fact that no one at the company could meet her eyes. 

(Did that make her petty?)

(At this point, she didn’t care.)

“Oh - sorry.” Yongsun reared back to avoid crashing right into a body coming around the corner. It took a her a moment, but the anger abated long enough to turn into nerves. Jeongeun-unnie looked about the same, her mouth hanging slightly open in shock. This was the first time Yongsun had seen her in… a long while. 

There was a moment where Yongsun thought something would be said -

(Either by her or Jeongeun-unnie)

(She wasn’t sure)

But then the moment stretched a breath too long and Yongsun scoffed and walked away.

(She didn’t have anything to say to her.)

(Had never been able to find the words.)

(Not since that night.)

(Yongsun had understood her. Once.)

(It was hard to remember that right now.)

“Yongsun-ah, wait.” Yongsun froze in her steps, clenching her fists as her old manager called out for her. There was another long pause - 

(long enough to make Yongsun’s palms itch)

But eventually Jeongeun-unnie took a deep breath and said, “You’ve seen her too, right?”

A beat. “Yeah.” It was hard to swallow with how dry her throat suddenly was. “She showed up yesterday.” 

“I see.” Jeongeun-unnie seemed to lose all of her courage then, sagging against the wall. “I was… it’s all so crazy, huh?” 

“That woman wasn’t  _ Byulyi _ .” Yongsun knew she was almost shouting at this point, so she took a deep breath to calm down. “I don’t know  _ who _ she was,” she was proud that she sounded more controlled now. “But she  _ isn’t _ Byulyi.” 

She didn’t realise she was trembling until Jeongeun-unnie pointed it out. “Maybe you need to take a deep breath, Yongsun-ah.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yongsun snapped reflexively. When the other woman didn’t say anything in response, Yongsun sighed and rubbed at her face with a shaking hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure you did.” Yongsun turned herself around so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. Jeongeun-unnie didn’t seem phased in the slightest by her temper. “It’s hard, isn’t it? I used to imagine how I would feel like if she’d somehow survived - if I’d caught her in time, if I was faster, if I hadn’t stopped the car.” For the first time since meeting her, Yongsun realised how small she actually was. 

(Jeongeun-unnie used to be the loudest person in the room.)

(Always cracking jokes and taking care of them with a smile.)

(Encouraging their antics and never worrying about their image.)

“I couldn’t keep living like that anymore, though. I told myself, if I ever saw her again, I would get on my knees and beg for her forgiveness.” Jeongeun-unnie rubbed at her eye, not quite crying.

(But close.)

(Closer than Yongsun had ever seen her.)

“She had no idea what to do when I actually did it yesterday. Told me to get up and looked so nervous, you should have seen her.” She did a floppy gesture with her hands, no doubt trying to mimic the motions. “She had no idea what I was apologising for.” A cruel laugh. “How horrible.” 

Yongsun didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure there was anything  _ to _ say. Jeongeun-unnie seemed disappointed by this, straightening up again and rubbing at her arm. “I know it’s hard for you too, but whoever this girl is - it’s not her fault.” She managed a smile. “I hope you continue taking care of yourself, Yongsun-ah. You’ve been looking happier lately.” And with that she left, her steps calm, but heavy. 

(Yongsun wondered if Jeongeun-unnie was heading to the toilets to cry.)

(That’s what Yongsun would have done.)

“Jeongeun-unnie, it’s okay.” She had a speech once, all thought out for how she would apologise for everything she had said or done to this woman in the wake of Byulyi’s accident. Had rehearsed it with her therapist, with Seulgi. 

But again, just like with Wheein - there wasn’t much to be said. 

(Time had stretched out the words, the need for them.)

(Till Yongsun could barely remember why she was angry in the first place.)

“Whatever happened before… it’s okay.” 

Jeongeun-unnie turned to give her a thankful smile over her shoulder. Yongsun’s heart caught in her chest. 

(Later, her producer would send her home after an hour of failed recordings.)

(Yongsun tried apologising, but he had waved her away and just looked off into the distance himself, a tired pull to his lips.)

(Yongsun had to work  _ that _ much harder to hold on to her anger.)

\- - - - - -

Yongsun frowned when she saw the shape sat in front of her door. It stirred when she stepped up to it, but Yongsun really wasn’t in the mood to deal with people anymore that day.

( _ One step at a time, Yongsun _ , she chanted to herself in her head.)

( _ One person at a time _ , was what she didn’t want to tell herself.)

“If you catch a cold, it won’t be my problem.” Yongsun wasn’t being charitable, and she knew it. The door buzzed open as she keyed in her code, and she held it open slightly as she waved in her unexpected guest. Jiyoon gratefully scrambled up and ducked inside, lingering in the front hallway uncertainly as Yongsun pushed past her gently to set her takeout on the kitchen island. She didn’t say a word the whole time, as she went about her usual routine. 

“Don’t just stand in my hallway. It’s creepy.” Yongsun grabbed another pair of indoor slippers as she set her shoes back in the shoe cupboard.

(She steadfastly refused to linger on how they were the same pair Byulyi always wore when she came over.)

“Thank you, Yongsun-unnie.” Jiyoon came further into the living room, watching as Yongsun bustled about, neatening her couch and picking up some magazines she’d left out. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah. Want some water?” She didn’t have much else to offer her. “I drink mine cold.”

“That’ll be fine too.” Jiyoon sat on the edge of the seat, looking around Yongsun’s living room. She didn’t spend too much time out here anymore, so she wasn’t bothered by what Jiyoon might find. She came back to find Jiyoon staring at the vacant dog bed. Still by the balcony doors, untouched as it had been for the past few months. 

“I had to send her back to my parents.” Yongsun set the glasses down on her coffee table with a soft clink. “I couldn’t… couldn’t take care of her anymore. For a bit.”

(She didn’t mention how just last week she’d been considering going back to pick her furry friend up again.)

(That wasn’t happening anymore.)

Jiyoon doesn’t do anything beyond nod, pulling her gaze away to look at Yongsun now. The leader didn’t know what to say to her; either, so she just waited. 

“I came to check in on you,” was what Jiyoon started with. “You weren’t answering anyone’s calls or texts.” Yongsun took a sip of her drink, looking away. “We’re worried.”

Yongsun laughed. “Why? Did you draw the short straw and lose? You had to be the one to personally come here?”

“You wouldn’t let Hyejin or Wheein in.” Jiyoon shrugged. “I figured I was the one you were least likely to kick out.” And Jiyoon, damn her, was right.

(History with someone - that always either worked for or against you.)

“Well, as you can see, I’m fine.” Yongsun set her glass back on the table decisively, making to get up to do  _ something _ -

(She hadn’t figured out what yet, she just had to move -)

But Jiyoon grasped her hand and held on tight. Yongsun stilled and glared at her. Jiyoon just tilted her head as if to say  _ I expected better from you _ . 

“Yongsun-unnie, you can’t keep running away from this -”

“Stop telling me what to do!” Yongsun felt like she’d been repeating this over and over again in some way for a long time. Everywhere she turned. To everyone who spoke to her.

(Ever since Byulyi had leaned forward in a dark car and told her to  _ stay here, okay? _ )

“You’re not a coward,” Jiyoon kept going as if Yongsun hadn’t interrupted, as if she hadn’t just yelled at her. “You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” This time, when Yongsun yanked her hand, Jiyoon let go. Yongsun started to pace, unable to sit still, feeling heat flush through her body, unwelcome. “You’ve only just met me. Don’t try and pretend as if you know what I’m going through. What any of us are going through. You’re just an  _ fangirl _ -”

“And I thought I was your  _ friend _ .” Jiyoon looked hurt, but her jaw was set and there was a sharp gleam in her eye. “Yongsun-unnie, you can’t keep pushing people away and not expect them to push back.” Yongsun slowed, but she couldn’t bear to keep looking at her. The other woman sighed, getting up to approach her. “We’re all hurting, just like you are. Maybe not to the same degree, but we are. You’re not alone in this.” Yongsun resisted the urge to throw her off when she set her hand on Yongsun’s shoulder. “Stop hiding behind your anger. It’s not her fault.”

“Then whose fault is it?” Yongsun’s vision swam with tears. She wiped them away roughly, not wanting to cry again. Not now. “Who can I blame for this?”

“The boy who took her with him when he fell? The river who took her memories?” Jiyoon laughed without mirth. “That’s just off the top of my head. But she’s not at fault. She doesn’t know anything.” 

“That’s  _ stupid _ ,” Yongsun barked harshly. “She can’t have forgotten everything. Wasn’t she ever curious? Didn’t she ever try to find us? We were looking for her - but we couldn’t find her because she was fucking  _ hiding _ .”

“Yongsun-unnie, that’s not fair.” Jiyoon sounded so disappointed then, and Yongsun’s fingers itched to grab onto something. 

(She had to cross her arms, hold them tight against her chest.)

“You don’t know how long I’ve hoped for this day.” Yongsun’s voice shook so hard, she wasn’t even sure Jiyoon could understand the words. “How many times I’ve fantasized about her coming back. Being here.”  _ With me _ , was what Yongsun wanted to say. Being by her side, smiling at her, teasing her and generally being a nuisance that Yongsun had become so used to after so many years together. Yongsun had imagined, and dreamed and prayed for those things. 

And now all they seemed even sillier than before.

“I’m sorry, Yongsun-unnie.” Jiyoon’s arm traveled across her shoulders and pulled her in close. “This whole thing sucks.”

(And that wasn’t what Byulyi would have said in the situation -)

(But it comforted her all the same.)

\- - - - - -

Much later, Yongsun and Jiyoon sat side by side on the couch, Yongsun tearing at the tissues absentmindedly, building a small pile on the table without meaning to. Jiyoon didn’t point it out, the same way she hadn’t pointed out her tears or the used tissues that Yongsun had accumulated. 

(Jiyoon, Yongsun decided then, was a good friend.)

“Have you met her yet?” Yongsun’s voice broke the easy silence that had fallen between them. Jiyoon nodded.

“Briefly. I got introduced on her way out from the building.” 

“And…” Yongsun hesitated, wondering what Jiyoon must’ve thought of her. How this all must’ve seemed. It wasn’t public knowledge, their relationship.

But a glance at Jiyoon’s patient face gave her the courage not to care. That ship had probably sailed a long time ago. “And how was she?” 

“She seemed… overwhelmed.” Jiyoon’s smile turned sad. “She kept looking at me like I was going to do something to her. Nothing at all like she used to be.” Jiyoon ran her hands over her suddenly bouncing legs. “Not that I knew her at all back then, of course. But she really looked like she was ready to run if I’d done something to scare her.”    
“Byulyi’s always been shy.” Yongsun’s lips twitched. “She hid it well, sometimes, but she struggled with new people just like the rest of us did.”

“Yongsun-unnie…” The way Jiyoon said her name was so pitying that Yongsun sighed and leaned back, abandoning her fidgeting mechanism. 

“Stop. I know that that might not be her at all. I’m still wrapping my head around it, is all.” Yongsun pulled at the hem of her shorts instead. “A part of me still hopes that she can’t be all that different, even now.”

Jiyoon nodded understandingly. “Well, I don’t know the full details of what happened either. All I know is that she’s back. And that she’s… you know.” She tapped her head to make her point. “But I guess that’s her story to tell, anyhow. To whomever she feels like telling it to.” Yongsun struggled not to let the guilt overwhelm her. “I’m not saying you should have stayed, unnie. But.” 

“I know, I know.” Yongsun rubbed at her temples, fearing a dull throb starting. “I just got so  _ angry _ .” Her therapist hadn’t been surprised when Yongsun had admitted that. It was easy, she had explained, to let it go when she finally found an outlet for it. But it was also good, she’d encouraged, to let it go. Yongsun had been suppressing it for so long that it had to go somewhere, at least. And it was almost  _ great _ that it had come out now rather than later, when Yongsun maybe wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint the trigger. 

It’s just -

Looking back on it now, Yongsun realised Byulyi had looked  _ terrified _ . Of her.

(When she’d been close enough to see the pores on her nose -)

(Count her eyelashes -)

(Had her pinned against the  _ wall _ , of all things.) 

And that, more than anything else, convinced Yongsun that maybe... she was telling the truth. 

“I made a mistake.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I shouldn’t have - I should have stayed.” Repeating Jiyoon’s words made her feel a bit better. “Shit.”

“It’s okay, Yongsun-unnie. You can still fix this.” Jiyoon patted her knee, pleased. “And it starts with not pushing us away. We’re all in this together, unnie.” 

(And Yongsun remembers saying something on Wheein’s rooftop -)

(Something like -)

(This is what Byulyi would have wanted them to do.)

Yongsun took a deep breath as she pulled out her phone, pulling up the Mamamoo group chat as Jiyoon gave her a puzzled look. “What are you doing, unnie?”

“I’m inviting Wheein and Hyejin over.” Yongsun offered a tired smile. “I really want some alcohol.” 

And Jiyoon’s smile turned sly and teasing, her laugh mischievous enough to set Yongsun’s heart at ease. “Now that’s the spirit.” 

(And when Wheein and Hyejin arrived later, nothing more on the topic of Byulyi was raised.)

(As if they too understood that this night was just a night where they needed to pretend -)

(For just one more night, at least -)

(That their world hadn’t just gotten flipped upside down again.)

(They end up staying over that night, all of them squashed up together in the living room on Yongsun’s spare blankets and pillows, their combined warmth almost unbearable in the summer heat.)

(But Yongsun wouldn’t have traded it for anything, then.)

(Not when it was the most restful sleep she’d had in a while.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Yongsun.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's been reading and supporting the work! I hope this chapter doesn't hurt too bad haha


	18. 3.5 - the memorials

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really not sure about this chapter, but hope it works!

Yuna had known from the minute she stepped into the room that she’d made a terrible mistake in coming. The shock on all their faces. The anger. Yuna couldn’t help but feel like she’d betrayed them somehow. 

The room was deathly silent after Yongsun’s departure. The sound of the door slamming seemed to echo, just like how her footsteps were on the floor outside. Yuna grabbed at her collar, hoping to keep her own feelings at bay, to stop them from overwhelming her.

(She felt hands on her, touching her, pinning her.)

(The phantom touch of sheer discomfort.)

Yuna sucked in a deep breath when she felt someone come closer, inquisitive dark eyes still rounded with surprise. 

“Unnie?” Yuna recognised her as Wheein. “Is that really you?” 

“If you mean me as in Byulyi, then -” Yuna choked on a broken laugh. “I’m not really sure how to answer that one. But the simple answer is yes.” It was strange to hear how confident she sounded. 

(Inside, she could feel her heart thudding in her veins.)

(Just under the skin.)

A sudden weight against her almost threw her off her feet, causing Yuna to yelp as she was, once again, pinned against the wall. But this time, before the panic could set in, Wheein pulled herself away to look at her from an arms-length away. “Oh my god.” 

“Hi.” Yuna managed a wave. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

“Stop being ridiculous, unnie.” The other woman - Hyejin, she remembered - stalked up to her. “Don’t play these games with us. Not us.” 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Yuna tucked her hands into her pockets, hoping for some respite from the curious eyes on her. “I’m not playing any games. I promise.” 

“So we’re just meant to believe that you completely lost your memory?” Hyejin’s eyes narrowed, ignoring Do Hoon call her name in warning. “What’s my favourite colour?” Yuna just stared at her blankly. “What do I always order at the bar?” She seemed to get even more agitated by Yuna’s silence. “What the hell do you call me when you’re really trying to piss me off?” 

“I’m sorry. Really,” Yuna tried to back away from the other woman before she remembered she had nowhere to go. “For me, this is my first time meeting you.” She wanted to take it back immediately because of the identical looks of pain flashing across their features. “I don’t know how to answer any of those questions.” 

“Then can you answer this one?” Wheein licked her lips as she grabbed Yuna’s hand pleadingly. Yuna stilled, unaware that she had been fidgeting with her sleeves. She was sure her helplessness showed on her face. “Unnie,” Wheein began carefully, exchanging glances with the others in the room. “What happened to you?” 

Yuna swallowed harshly. This was going to be a long story. 

\- - - - - 

In the end, Yuna wasn’t sure what did it. Maybe it was the way she kept their eyes as she spoke. Maybe it was the way she realised she was hesitating around them, unsure of their reactions. Or maybe it was the sheer… absurdity of the whole situation that grounded everything in the end. 

(She would never know that it wasn’t any of these.)

(Wheein and Hyejin had known - as well as Yongsun had - that things were different from the minute she stepped through that door.)

(From the moment Yuna had smiled helplessly at them, instead of running into their arms with her naturally bright smile.)

(They had known that the person in their midst wasn’t the Byulyi they knew.)

“So she’s in jail now? And you’re… back?” Hyejin repeated slowly, leaning forward with her arms crossed. Yuna nodded. “For good?”

“I don’t know about that yet.” She didn’t miss the way Wheein and Hyejin traded looks with each other. “I don’t really know what to do next, if I’m being honest.” 

“You could come back here.” Do Hoon spoke up for the first time since the reunion. Yuna blinked. “To the company. See if that’s something you’d still like to do.” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good -”

“You could.” Wheein smiled kindly. “He’s right, you don’t have to join us again. But…” 

“You loved music, unnie.” Hyejin backed her best friend up without hesitation. “Has that changed?” 

“I don’t know. I never really thought about it.” Yuna scratched her head idly. “I didn’t think about anything besides… this, really. Meeting you guys. But maybe you’re right.” She straightened in her seat and smiled. “Maybe that  _ is _ a good place to start. If you don’t mind having me here.” 

Yuna wasn’t sure if that was the right choice to make, but she couldn’t bear to make herself think otherwise when she saw how their faces lit up. 

(And maybe this was what everyone wanted her to do for the moment.)

(Maybe that was alright for now.)

\- - - - - -

Seulgi finds her at home later, folding papers with a concentrated look on her face. She split her attention between the computer screen and the object in her hands, her bottom lip between her teeth in absent focus. Seeing her fingers manipulate the paper into shapes, Seulgi felt her heart skip a beat. 

“... fold that crease in gently…” Yuna muttered, scratching her temple as she turned the paper over, examining it closer. “But which side is it talking about?” 

“You look busy, unnie.” Behind her eyes, Seulgi saw cranes, bears, flowers that Yongsun put down on a memorial on a bridge. “What are you doing?” 

“Seulgi?” Yuna didn’t jump at her presence. “Just folding shapes.” 

“You used to do that… before.” Seulgi couldn’t bring herself to step in closer. “Did you have to learn that too?” 

“Really?” Her sister looked at the shape with new eyes. “Yeah, they had some books that I read. I just like folding them.” 

“Yeah?” Seulgi watched as her sister tried folding a corner down, before sighing in disappointment. “Made a mistake?” 

“Yeah.” Yuna pursed her lips as she unfolded it again, pulling up the corners till she returned to the last step she knew she’d done right. “I’m trying to get this shape right, but I can’t tell which one is right.” She looked up with guileless eyes. “Do you know how to do this?” 

Seulgi shook her head, wishing she wasn’t fighting with Yongsun-unnie. She would have loved to know about this.

(Or maybe not.)

“I used to go by the sea and fold shapes,” Yuna began to chat absentmindedly. “It helped keep the voices quiet, you know? I’d write down whatever it was that was bothering me, and I’d let it sail away.” Seulgi could see the wistfulness in her face, hear the quiet despair in her tone. “One time I caught a cold ‘cause I was out for too long. Ahjumma wasn’t very happy about it.” 

“Did she treat you fairly?” Yuna chuckled at the indignant anger in her sister’s voice. “Unnie.”

“She was fine. She looked out for me.” Yuna set aside the shape in her hands to stretch out her back, sighing in relief at the comfort it brought. “I miss her, really. She never let me linger too long in the moment.” 

“Do you want to go back?” Seulgi hadn’t thought about that. That maybe her sister wasn’t happy to be home after all. 

(She hadn’t said a word yet about how the reunion had gone.)

(Seulgi wasn’t sure how to ask.)   
“I think about it a lot.” Yuna kept her gaze focused on her hands instead of on Seulgi, hovering in the doorway. “I’m not sure what the answer is yet.”

“I see,” Seulgi said, even though she didn’t understand. Suddenly she couldn’t bear to be there anymore, a voyeur to what was no doubt a rare moment of peace for this stranger that used to be her sister. “Well, you let me know.” 

“Seulgi, wait.” And Seulgi, damn her, stopped. She looked over her shoulder to see Yuna on her knees, looking at her with a helpless smile. “I was hoping to ask for a favour.” 

“Okay?” Her heart was racing in her chest as she tried to figure out what it could be. Yuna hadn’t asked for much since she’d been back. 

(In fact, besides asking for them to call them by her new name, Yuna hadn’t asked for anything at all.)

“I know this must be really weird,” Yuna started, her gaze darting all over the place, her nerves apparent in the way she rubbed the back of her neck. “But I was wondering if you could take me somewhere.” 

“Okay?” Seulgi repeated unsurely. “I mean, I’m not busy today, so I should be able to, but -”

“I want you to take me to the bridge.” Seulgi froze. “Where I… fell over, I mean.” Yuna seemed serious enough. Her smile - so sheepish, so unsure - was so foreign on her lips Seulgi struggled to remember that this face was one she grew up with. “I know it might be asking for a lot, but if you could, that would be great.” 

A long pause. “Okay.” Seulgi eventually nodded. “Okay, unnie.” She busied herself with looking for her keys. “Do you want to go now?” 

“Yeah. Please.” Her touch on Seulgi’s arm made her jump. Seulgi looked up at her sister’s eyes - once again familiar with that kind gleam, that unending understanding that they seemed to share between them. “Thank you, Seulgi.” 

Seulgi wished she could say something like “Anytime, unnie -” 

But the words got stuck in her throat, stubbornly refusing to lie. 

\- - - - - -

There wasn’t much of a wind in the city, Yuna mused. She was beginning to miss it, she realised, feeling her skin stick to her shirt with no respite. She missed working the fields, watching the grains sway in the wind. She missed the sounds of her colleagues chit-chatting, holding their own conversations to help them forget the repetitiveness of their jobs, the aches and the pains of sowing, planting, weeding. She missed the feel of the breeze tickling her forehead as it played with her hair, always causing it to fall into her eyes despite her best efforts. She missed the autonomy and the purpose of knowing her day to day movements. 

Yuna missed knowing who she was. 

There was no wind today on the bridge. Seulgi had remarked off-handedly in the car earlier that it was their hottest summer to date, and Yuna had immediately thought of days baking in the sun, lazing in the house during the hottest hours, drinking tea with Ahjumma. She’d stared out the window then, wondering if she would ever stop associating hot summer days with the ones she spent in the fields. On the mudflats, by the sea. 

(With feeling strangely full and empty at the same time.)

“So this is where I…?” Yuna trailed off as she stared at the assortment of items laid out by the railing, her own smiling face looking up at her. Blonde, like she used to be. 

(Before Lala -)

(Before the Accident.)

“Yeah. They confirmed it.” Seulgi didn’t elaborate further, but Yuna wondered if ‘they’ meant  _ them _ . 

(Kim Yongsun, Jung Wheein, Ahn Hyejin.)

(Byulyi’s friends.)

Yuna nodded, stepping forward to look, crouching down so she could see better. There were flowers, soft toys - a lot of hamsters - and notes. Written on autograph boards, paper, small whiteboards. Some were anecdotes - personal struggles that they felt like Byulyi had helped them with, as a musician and a person - others were memories like the first time they discovered Mamamoo’s music and met Byulyi in person. There were even some, Yuna discovered, reading one from a fan, that talked about how much they missed the rapper now that they were gone, and were now struggling to hold on to a reason to live, because that was how much Mamamoo’s music had meant to them. 

(Those ones left Yuna’s heart clenching in pain and discomfort.)

(The thought that she’d been a part of something that big scared her.)

(And deep down, as she would later discover,  _ angered _ her at the same time.)

“Wow.” Yuna’s quiet awe was swallowed up by the noise of a loud motorcycle tearing down the highway. “There are so many.” 

“They used to clean it daily,” Seulgi muttered as she came to crouch next to her sister. “In the beginning, I mean. There were so many. It used to stretch out to there -” Seulgi pointed to a point a ways off. “And the company had to stay on top of it. Sometimes Wheein-unnie or Hyejin-unnie or Yongsun-unnie would do it too, pick up things to take back. I never asked to where,” Seulgi reached out to right a teddy bear that was listing to the side. “But our family never had to worry about it.” Yuna wanted to ask if their parents had visited - if young Yeseol had seen her sister’s face attached to this railing like a funeral photograph at a wake. Yuna wanted to ask how often Seulgi had come to visit it, since she knew so much about it, enough to know how far it used to stretch out to and that it used to be tended to daily. Yuna wanted to ask all these things and more -

(Like  _ I can’t believe you missed me that much  _ and  _ where did all these people come from _ and  _ was I really _ that  _ special? _ )

But the questions never made it out her mouth. 

(Her tongue felt leaden, her thoughts liquid.)

(Yuna felt like she was by the sea again, tapping her fingers against a paper shape with the words  _ stuck, stuck, stuck _ on it.)

Instead, she said, “That’s a nice picture,” looking at the familiar face smiling back at her. In the background, there were some swings, and Byulyi was smiling so wide, her eyes were hidden by her cheeks. “Who took it?” 

“Yongsun-unnie.” Seulgi reached out as if to touch it, but didn’t. “She asked if it was okay - with omma and appa, I mean.” 

“Ah.” The same Yongsun that had yelled at her. Yuna wasn’t sure how to feel. “She’s probably mad at me now.” 

“Why do you say that?” 

Yuna rubbed the back of her neck self-consciously. “Well, I suppose it was a shock to see me. Again, I mean.” She hadn’t said anything about how the meeting had gone, but she figured that Seulgi would have been her best option for sharing. “Wheein and Hyejin were alright, and Do Hoon as well. But Yongsun didn’t seem to believe me when I told her I lost my memories.” 

“... it’s a big shock.” Seulgi wasn’t looking at her - her gaze was firmly on Byulyi’s picture. “I couldn’t believe it myself when they told me, at first.” Yuna wanted to ask about how she’d found out at all. Wanted to ask if she’d been mad, or if she’d been shocked, or if she had any doubts about Yuna and this person they believed was her sister. “But now that I’ve seen you,” Seulgi fiddled with a charm on her bracelet. “Well, I’m glad that you’re here at all.” Seulgi stood and rubbed her hands on her jeans, looking across the river. “We should head back.” 

“Already?” Yuna didn’t really want to be here anymore either, but she also didn’t want to go home just yet. “Can we take a walk around here?” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Seulgi’s smile looked thin. “I don’t know if I’m up for it just yet.” Yuna blinked up at her. “Sorry,” she tacked on. “It’s a little hard for me right now.” 

“That’s okay,” Yuna said as she stood up hurriedly. “I’m sorry for making you take me out here at all.” 

“Did it help?” Yuna looked at her questioningly. “With what you’re going through right now. Did it help?” 

Yuna looked back at the memorial, her mind quiet for once. “Well, I wouldn’t say it helped, exactly. I’m not sure what with.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a crane she’d folded the night before out of the letter Do Hoon had written her. “But I think I can sleep a little better tonight. Having seen this.” She bent over to place it back amongst some other paper shapes that had been nestled amongst the pile of things. She didn’t notice Seulgi turning away from the sight. “Thank you, Seulgi.” 

Seulgi was already walking away, leaving Yuna to catch up. Neither of them turned around for a last look. 

\- - - - -

“... and this is our practice room.” Wheein explained as she showed Yuna into a large dance studio. “We used to spend a lot of time in here.” Behind them, Hyejin leaned against the wall with an air of disinterest, though her eyes hadn’t left Yuna since they’d met. “You left some things here, actually. Yongsun-unnie took them home with her, but if you wanted them back, then…”

“Oh, okay.” Yuna wasn’t sure if she did want those things back. “Thanks.”

(They didn’t feel like they were really hers.)

Both the maknaes watched as Yuna circled the room, looking at the space with fascination. She’d seen a lot of videos being filmed in this space, and Yuna could almost imagine how she used to move in here, sung and played with the other members. 

(Well, imagine someone who looked like her, at least.)

“Say, could I ask something?” Yuna turned suddenly, an urge blossoming in her mind she couldn’t quite shake. “Could you guys sing something for me?” 

The two exchanged glances. “Sing something?” Hyejin asked. “Why?” 

Yuna shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. This all still feels so unreal. A few weeks ago, I was just a girl on a farm. Now I’m someone who used to be a musician. It hasn’t really sunk in for me yet.” She scratched her cheek in embarrassment. “And in truth, I really liked listening to you guys sing when I heard it online. You both have beautiful voices.” 

They both blushed at that. “Uh, yeah, sure. I guess.” Wheein strode to the speakers in the corner, pulling out her phone. “What do you want to hear us sing?” 

“Anything, really.” Yuna almost couldn’t believe it. “Your favourite song to sing, maybe?” 

“What about something we used to sing together?” Hyejin pushed herself off the wall at last, joining her best friend. “ _ Sugar Daddy _ ?” Yuna beamed as she remembered hearing them sing it in a radio show somewhere. “I can take over Yongsun-unnie’s parts.” 

“What about  _ See Through _ ?” Wheein handed the phone over to Hyejin. “I’ve always liked that more. And Byulyi-unnie had singing parts - I mean…” Wheein trailed off as she looked at Yuna. “Sorry, Yuna-unnie.” 

“It’s okay.” Yuna couldn’t help feeling a little giddy. “I liked that one too.” 

“You’ve heard us sing it before?” Hyejin raised an eyebrow. “Then why are we singing it now?”    
“I want to hear you sing it in person. Call it a selfish wish, if you will.” Yuna put on her most charming grin. “Please?” 

“Fine, fine.” Hyejin pressed play as the music came on over the speakers. Yuna clapped her hands excitedly as she sat cross-legged on the floor, propping her chin on her hands. “Let’s just swap verses, Wheein.” 

“Okay.” Wheein smiled nervously, but jumped into it without hesitation, her voice even better live than through Yuna’s tinny earphones. The two friends swapped the parts with ease, only needing to glance at each other to communicate who did what. Yuna was grinning the whole time, her cheeks pulling up of their own accord without her conscious decision. When they stopped after the first chorus, Yuna applauded them. Hard. 

“I knew it. You guys are really good!” Somehow being able to verify that made something in her lighter. “I really enjoyed that.” 

“I’m glad, unnie,” Wheein shared another look with Hyejin. “It’s been so long since we last sang that.” 

“Yeah, Wheeinie. You sang some parts a little off-key,” Hyejin teased, causing Wheein to puff up in indignation. “Don’t give me that - it was mostly on your actual parts.” 

“Shut up, Hyejin. No one asked you.” Wheein shoved her best friend playfully. Yuna laughed, hiding it with her hand. 

(This was the lightest she had felt in a while.)

“You guys are funny.” She watched them softly, feeling warm inside. “It’s fun.” 

Wheein exhaled sharply. “You know, unnie? It was fun with you too.” When Yuna blinked at her, Wheein tucked her hands into her pockets, looking shy all of a sudden. “We always had fun together. It made the long nights and hard days easier when we were all together. All four of us.” 

“Yeah.” Hyejin tilted her head with a sad smile. “I guess what we’re trying to say is that we missed you. A lot.” 

Yuna gaped for a long moment. She wasn’t sure what to say in response to that. 

(She had forgotten, for a bit, the baggage that lingered over them like a heavy rain cloud.)

(Given to a fierce thunderstorm at any moment.)

“Thank you,” she managed, in the end. The words felt inadequate, but they were all she could offer at the moment. 

And looking at the understanding looks on their faces, Yuna figured they were enough. For now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I’ve been rewatching a lot of K-ON! again recently. It’s an anime about a bunch of girls having fun while being part of a band and not much really happens in it, but it’s one of my favourite things ever. The mundanity of their day to day lives, the comedy and the fun they all have. They love music and being together, and it’s always touched me to see that and enjoy that journey with them. 
> 
> I’ve been wondering lately about writing as a passion. So much of my life has been defined by writing, and my love for it that I could somewhat turn into a career. But lately I’ve fallen out of love with it - I suppose that’s only natural when you turn your passion into work. My therapist says it’s okay, and that someday I might find the thing in it that I used to love so much. But I can’t help but chase after whatever it is that made me feel so light when I was younger and just did writing because I love it. 
> 
> Much like how the girls in the anime just play music because they love it, I suppose writing fanfic gives me that release. And everytime I see people still reading the things I write, and liking them - well. It gives me that same feeling I think I’ve been chasing after recently. Something to do with a meaningful legacy or something? 
> 
> I guess in my usual long-winded way - I wanted to say thank you again. To everyone who’s reading anything I’m writing. You seem to enjoy it, but I have to admit that writing it also gives me that same joy, and sharing it with you all. You’ve all made a difference in my life the way I hope these stories did to you. Maybe even a bigger difference in my life than I have in yours. So thank you all so much. It means the world.


End file.
